




Class — 

Book Jhe&Jl — 

Gopight N'-P-PlP — 

COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 





/ 

















' 

* 













s . 




















i 


* 





































































& . 

































































































“ MY 


LAUNDRESS'S COSTUME. 


* y 








ALICE DE BEAUREPAIRE 


51 Xlomancc of i^apoleoit 




Unabridged Translation from the French by. 

I. G. BURNHAM 


/■' 

1 WAV iji hs* 


WASrAV 







BOSTON 

CHARLES E. BROWN & CO. 

C O L| 2 • 


Ob - GS70 





Copyright, 1896, 

By Charles E. Brown & Co. 




CONTENTS 


CHAPTEIl r. 

The Twentieth of March l 

CHAPTER II. 

The Agent of the Princes 21 

CHAPTER III. 

Napoleon at the Royal Oak 39 

CHAPTER IV. 

Maman Quiou 60 

v 

CHAPTER V. 

Henriot’s Marriage 80 

/ 

CHAPTER VI. 

The Emperor in Love 95 

CHAPTER VII. 

Sans-Gene Kisses, Napoleon 119 

CHAPTER VIII. 

«• 

Henriot’s Return .... r .... 131 


IV 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER IX. 

Love and Hate . ... 141 

CHAPTER X. 

On the Road to Destruction 172 

CHAPTER XI. 

The Private Hospital 206 

CHAPTER XII. 

The Conspiracy of CoMPiiGNE 227 

CHAPTER XIII. 

March on ! March on ! 242 

CHAPTER XIV. 

» 

The Emperor is Dead 276 

CHAPTER XV. 

The Portrait 293 

CHAPTER XVI. 

The Romance of a Conspiracy 319 

CHAPTER XVII. 

The Caf& Mont Saint-Bernard 349 

CHAPTER XVII r. 

The Plain of Crenelle . ... - ... 382 


LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. 


“ My laundress’s costume ” Frontispiece. 

The Comte de Provence without laying aside nis 

Horace or putting down the pencil . . . . 29 


“You DO NOT RECOGNIZE ME, DEAR MADAME” ... 73 

La YlOLETTE PAUSED, AND CAST HIS EYE OVER HIS 

AUDIENCE IN A LORDLY WAY 85 

He had already raised HIS left knee .... 145 

“Sire, Marshal Davout, who commands the First 

Corps, is already in the field ” 177 


“Very well, Gentlemen,” returned the Czar, “I 

fully concur with your ideas ” 193 

r 

“ We must put an end to this, my friends. The Em- 
pire HAS LASTED TOO LONG” 214 


“ And now, you are less excited ” 233 

“ We must pack our knapsacks and start off with 

THE LEFT FOOT ” 256 

“ Great news ! the Emperor is dead ! ” . . .276 

An usher called, “M. Beyle” 293 

Did he thereupon begin to realize the emptiness of 

EARTHLY GRANDEUR ? 303 

“Never fear, old fellow! you have fallen into 

GENEROUS HANDS ! ” . 333 

“ Here they are ! ” Malet retorted, discharging a 

PISTOL AT HIM, POINT BLANK 346 

“ Hush ! hush ! for heaven’s sake ! ” he exclaimed 


HASTILY 


360 



ALI€E DE BEAUREPAIRE. 


I. 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 

On the 20th of March, 1811 , Napoleon at the 
height of power, at the zenith of glory, towered aloft 
over Europe, the master of the destinies of the rest of 
the world, arbiter of peace and war ; and it seemed 
that nothing could disturb the solidity of his throne, 
founded upon fifty victories, around which the glorious 
swords of his illustrious marshals, and the awe-in- 
spiring bayonets of the grenadiers formed a solid, 
glistening wall. 

Terror-stricken kings, the supposititious successors 
of Louis XVI, weary of awaiting a restoration which 
seemed from day to day more improbable, forgotten 
by the people in their prolonged absence from the 
country, put aside by the monarchs of Europe as 
ruined cousins, whose presence at their courts was 
compromising, — the former royalist conspirators, 
hunted from place to place and thoroughly demoral- 


2 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 


ized, renounced their confessedly hopeless attempts and 
sank into the lethargy of discouraged resignation ; — 
all these foes of the empire, now crushed and crawl- 
ing, but who were to rise again, raging and pitiless, 
amid the bloody vapor of disaster, had at this time 
but one hope, one thought ; they no longer hoped for 
the violent downfall of the colossus, but for the sud- 
den death of the man. 

“Ah! if Napoleon might die!” such was the bar- 
barous wish of all to whom the emperor’s existence 
was a burden. One persistent, implacable enemy 
breathed that hope into every favorable ear, and 
prated of the possibility of that occurrence in every 
European court. 

That deadly enemy was the Comte de Neipperg ; 
and we shall see in the following pages that he whis- 
pered that sinister prophecy in Napoleon’s very pal- 
ace, where Marie-Louise received the suggestion with- 
out dismay as without indignation. 

The emperor’s death — that was the rallying cry 
of all the hatreds, all the longing for revenge and re- 
prisals, and all the jealousies accumulated around the 
new Charlemagne. 

He had no direct heir. His disputed succession 
would give rise to innumerable fie'rce conflicts. The 
bloody obsequies of Alexander would give over his 
vast empire to dismemberment. The generals, the 
brothers, the allies of Napoleon, would all carve por- 
tions for themselves out of the magnificent booty. 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 


3 


The quarry would be free to all, and the beasts of 
prey would flock from far and near. The death of 
Napoleon meant revenge for humiliated monarchs, de- 
liverance for subjugated nations, renewed possibility 
of the restoration of the forsaken Bourbons, now 
stricken from the list of kings. 

The news that Marie-Louise would present the em- 
peror with a child in the near future destroyed all 
these well-laid plans, and nipped these springing hopes 
in the bud. 

Once more fortune smiled upon her constant favor- 
ite. Napoleon’s dream was to be fulfilled to the last 
detail ! Was he not in very truth too fortunate, too 
insolently fortunate? 

Victorious everywhere, enjoying for the first time 
general peace, with confidence in its endurance, and 
with almost nothing without to occupy his atten- 
tion, save that thorn in his foot, Spain, he awaited 
the accouchement of the empress with feverish im- 
patience. 

Although the most assiduous attention had been 
© 

paid to her comfort, Marie-Louise 'had had a painful 
experience. 

At the supreme moment anguish, silent but pro- 
found, reigned about her bed. 

Corvisarty in his anxiety, sent for the emperor. 

The potentate who had introduced at his court the 
etiquette of an Asiatic despot, and who could not be 
approached until the most rigorous formalities had 


4 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 


been complied with, did not scruple to respond on the 
instant to the summons of the first physician. 

With no chamberlain or lady of the bed chamber to 
announce him, with uncovered head and anxious eye, 
the man whose eyelids did not once quiver in the 
cemetery at Eylau, appeared at the door of Marie- 
Louise’s bedroom visibly perturbed. 

“ Save the mother ! ” he cried. “ Do not let my 
Louise die ! Corvisart, you shall answer to me with 
your head for the empress’s life ! ” 

“ Sire, I will try to save the child as well ; but I 
may perhaps be obliged to use the forceps.” 

Napoleon, with a sorrowful gesture, gave the man 
of science full authority. 

As his eye fell upon Dubois, who had been sum- 
moned to attend the empress in her confinement, he 
noticed that eminent accoucheur’s agitation. 

“ Keep cool, monsieur ! ” said he, adding with a 
familiar turn of phrase, such as he would have used to 
encourage his old troopers marching into fire: <• Mor- 
bleu ! act just as if you were at the bedside of a peas- 
ant woman.” 

He withdrew after quarter of an hour of anxious, 
passionate contemplation, having fondly pressed his 
lips to the moist hand of Marie-Louise, who lay pale 
and gasping among her laces in the fierce struggle of 
the first pains. He returned to his study, counting 
the seconds, nervous, excited, and unable to stay in 
any one place. 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 


5 


Not only did he dread the complications of child- 
birth hinted at by Corvisart, but his fear for the 
child’s life was heightened by his cruel apprehensions 
for" the mother’s safety. 

Furthermore, assuming that the result for mother 
and child would be all that he could desire, he was 
tormented by uncertainty as to the sex of the new- 
comer. Would it be a male child ; was the empire to 
have a Napoleon II ? His heart would welcome a 
daughter with affection, without doubt, but her com- 
ing would derange, or at least postpone, all his combi- 
nations, all his hopes. And if Marie-Louise’s health 
should be so shattered by the birth of the daughter, 
and her system so disorganized by this laborious ac- 
couchement, that she could not safely become a mother 
a second time, it would mean a return to uncertainty, 
and the imperial heritage would be endangered, or 
would fall into hands too weak to maintain and pre- 
serve it. 

Ah ! it was a moment of acutest solicitude, and the 
suspense was killing. 

Like a gambler who leans over the table watching 
the fall of the cards which is to ruin him or make his 
fortune, Napoleon kept his eyes fixed with the glare of 
a wild man upon the empress’s apartment, shuddering 
whenever the door was opened by the servants going 
and coming, and starting at the least noise that fell 
upon his ear. 

He was as feverish and restive as a lover watching 


6 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 


beneath liis loved one’s window, dreading some cruel 
deception and cursing the minutes for their modera- 
tion. 

To divert his mind he walked from time to time to 
one of the windows of his study and looked down at 
the enormous crowd standing in the Place du Car- 
rousel with their eyes fixed greedily upon the Tuile- 
ries. 

The people, like himself, were in feverish suspense. 

On this 20tli of March, 1811, a cloud of misgiving 
hung low over the whole country, and the subjects 
were no less anxious than their sovereign to know 
what Nature was about to bring forth in the chamber 
of anguish. 

The birth of a son to the emperor would seem to 
the whole world a pledge of peace, an assurance of the 
permanence of the French power, and a guaranty for 
the future. 

The majority reasoned in this way. The dissidents 
were equally alive to the momentous importance of the 
event that was imminent. The enemies of Napoleon, 
the partisans of the princes, they who were conspiring 
with the Chouans and making preparations in the 
shadow for the return of the Bourbons, hoped that the 
child would not live. The sinister rumors which were 
current in the city rejoiced their hearts. If chance 
willed that the child was healthy and likely to live, 
they desired that they might at least have the consola- 
tion of knowing that it was a daughter. A male in- 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 


7 


fant would disconcert all their plans, which were based 
upon the sudden death of Napoleon without an heir, 
and with no possible successor. 

The Philadelphians, dispersed, imprisoned, or in 
exile, had taken measures in concert as the empress’s 
confinement drew near. Those of them who were at 
liberty had made all possible efforts to come together. 

On the 20th of March, 1811, we find the most 
prominent among them seated around a table in a 
small wine-shop on the Carrousel, adjoining the Hotel 
de Nantes. 

In a narrow stall, Major Marcel, who was set at 
liberty as a result of Renee’s appeal to the emperor, 
was talking with three individuals widely differing in 
age and appearance, and yet with certain points of 
resemblance in their general demeanor : the profes- 
sional something which makes it possible for military 
men, actors and ecclesiastics to recognize one another, 
even when so dressed as to mislead laymen. 

The first, the youngest of the three, was one Alex- 
ander Boutreux. He was twenty-eight years old. A 
native of Angers, and brother to a priest of the semi- 
nary of Beauveau, near Saumur, he had been tutor in 
a royalist family, and thereby brought in contact 
with the friends of the princes and influential per- 
sons among the emigres. 

The second, closely shaven and gentle-mannered, 
like Boutreux, but with a keen glance and less expan- 
sive smile, was the Abbd Lafori. He had been con- 


8 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 


demned to death at Bordeaux as chief of an association 
of young people warmly attached to the pope. He 
was thirty-eight years old and an ardent royalist. 

The third was a short, thick-set man, dark-skinned, 
and with piercing black eyes, which darted restlessly 
here and there. A coarse black beard covered his 
cheeks and his chin. He was a Spanish monk named 
Camagno. The head of an inquisitor and the heart 
of a bandit. Camagno was a violent clerical. He 
dreamed of recommencing the Vendee, and his hatred 
of Napoleon was due mainly to the persecution of 
which the pope had been the victim. 

These three conspirators informed Marcel of the 
efforts the Philadelphians were making to renew their 
organization at Bordeaux, in Poitou and in the west- 
ern departments. 

They were simply awaiting a favorable opportunity 
to give tbe signal for insurrection. 

As they drank to the fulfilment of their hopes, the 
four Philadelphians kept their ears open, listening for 
the cannon which was to announce the birth of the 
imperial child. 

To them, also, it was a momentous crisis. Napo- 
leon without an heir would be more vulnerable. A 
son, by solidifying his throne, by appearing before the 
eyes of the army and the nation as the lawful inheritor 
of the formidable name of Napoleon, as the perpetua- 
tor of his work and power, would greatly lessen the 
chances of a successful accomplishment of their plans. 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 


9 


They had just finished exchanging their views and 
formulating their prospects, when the report of a can- 
non was heard. 

At the same moment a tremendous shout arose on 
the Carrousel. 

From thousands of anxious hearts went up a con- 
fused sort of roar, in which there was hope, joy, ap- 
plause, as well as the instinctive murmur of those 
whose emotion is not easy to define. Highly-strung 
nerves were relieved from the intense strain, and there 
was a general expression of relief from the irritating 
suspense in that hoarse, long-drawn murmur. 

The great gun at the Invalides had spoken — the 
imperial child was born ! 

Was it a prince ? Or was Napoleon’s sceptre to be 
changed into a distaff ? 

A second report rang out after an interval of one 
minute, followed by a second vague rumbling of voices 
in the crowd, interlarded with sharp cries and brutal 
shouts. 

“ Be still ! — Silence ! — Hush ! hush ! ( Vive V Em- 

pereur ! ’ ” 

A third report. 

In the silence which was now almost universal, 
broken only by a continuous murmuring like the plash- 
ing of water in the distance, voices could be heard 
counting — 

“ Three ! ” 

Marcel and his companions walked to the doorway 


10 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 


in order to hear better, and take note of the impression 
produced upon the throng. 

A few steps away stood two men, apparently anx- 
ious not to attract attention, for they stood behind a 
window-shutter of the wine-shop. 

“ I know that face,” said Marcel in an undertone 
to the Abbe Lafon ; “he was one of us — ” 

“ A traitor ? — a spy ? ” 

“ No ; an agent of the Comte de Provence, the 
Marquis de Louvigne. He severed his connection with 
us when he learned that our purpose was to re-estab- 
lish the republic.” 

“ Oho ! Malet has not yet announced his final de- 
cision,” said the abbe ; “and I hope, as does Pere Ca- 
magno, to make him accept the monarchy, the only 
possible form of government' in France. Isn’t that 
your opinion, reverend sir ? ” 

“ The name of the government to be substituted for 
that of Bonaparte matters little,” said the monk, sav- 
agely, “provided it is one that will re-establish the 
church in all its glory.” 

“ I do not share your ideas, father,” said Boutreux, 
“ as to the restoration of a king, which seems to me 
very problematical : I think that if Napoleon is finally 
struck down by us, a republic is the natural outcome. 
But where I do find myself heartily in accord with 
you is in this, that it must be a Christian, not an 
impious, republic. Jesus Christ was a republican. 
Don’t let us mix the pope up with our affairs too 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 


11 


much : a French church is what we must have. Don’t 
you agree with me, major ? ” 

Marcel shook his head. 

“ We must have a universal republic,” he said : “ all 
nations brethren! No more frontiers! War abol- 
ished ! Concord instead of rivalry ; free exchange of 
products ; and ideas as well as merchandise forever 
set free from customs, taxes and police surveillance ! 
That is my idea, and that is why I wish to overthrow 
Napoleon ! ” he exclaimed with exaltation. 

His apostle’s face lighted up. His eyes shone with 
excitement. Intoxicated by his dream, he seemed to 
be already living in spirit in that ideal society founded 
by the fraternity, with peace for its watchword, 
wherein all the people on the globe would be like 
children of one family dwelling in the same house. 

The cannon continued, to roar, amid the increasing 
excitement of the crowd. 

“ Seventeen ! — it’s drawing near, my dear Mau- 
breuil,” said M. de Louvigne to his companion, in a 
tone sufficiently loud to be overheard by Marcel and 
his friends. 

This companion of the Marquis de Louvigne, an 
uncomfortable-looking individual, with the general ap- 
pearance of a seeker after quarrels and adventures, a 
cruel eye and a thin lip, muttered : 

“ Four minutes more. Ah ! Napoleon, is your star 
to be put out at last ? ” 

“ If ill luck has it that we are to hear that cursed 


12 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 


gun eighty-four times more — if it happens to be a 
boy that is born to Bonaparte — what course will our 
princes adopt, Monsieur de Maubreuil ? ” 

“ They will do what I have always advised, — sup- 
press the tyrant ! ” 

“ That’s not so easily done.” 

“ A good dagger is all that is needed.” 

“ And a man to handle it.” 

“ That man is in existence : he is ready.” 

“ Do you know him ? ” 

“ To be sure ! I r.m the man ! ” 

And an expression f ferocious hatred distorted the 
features of this villainous adventurer, Guerri, Marquis 
d’Orvault and Comte de Maubreuil, who was subse- 
quently commissioned by Talleyrand and the Bourbons 
to assassinate Napoleon, with his brothers Jerome and 
Joseph, and also to abduct the King of Rome and the 
Queen of Westphalia — one of the most mysterious 
and most infamous characters in the history of the 
empire. 

“Twenty! — that’s the twentieth gun,” muttered 
voices in the crowd. 

But immediately the silence of painful suspense 
swallowed up every sound. 

The twenty-first gun was fired. 

Would the artillery at the Invalides now remain 
dumb, having fired the one-and- twenty guns which an- 
nounced the birth of a princess ? 

The crowd almost stopped breathing. It seemed as 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 


13 


if the interval was longer than usual, and certain ones 
were already saying: “That’s all. Napoleon will 
have no male heir ! ” 

But the twenty-second report rang out, followed by 
an immense hurrah. 

Some few persons hesitated to join in the prevailing 
enthusiasm. They hinted that perhaps there was a 
mistake in the count. They still hoped that Napoleon 
would not have the son he longed for ; but all doubt 
was removed by another report, and another : a male 
child was born. 

Joyous shouts and acclamations, hats tossed in air, 
silent clasps of the hand, exuberant sentences ex- 
changed, every indication of popular satisfaction was 
manifested on this day of peculiar happiness for Na- 
poleon. 

He had experienced cruel emotions. The effort to 
hide them from every eye had exhausted him. 

After he had said to Dubois, the accoucheur, that he 
relied entirely upon him, and bade him treat the em- 
press as if she were a farmer’s wife, he left the room, 
and indulged in a bath to allay his nervousness and 
rest him somewhat. 

Dubois, with great skill and perfect coolness set 
about assisting Nature in her work, for he had not 
failed to detect the extreme peril. 

The empress, who was suffering terribly, groaned 
and writhed, recoiling wild-eyed from the forceps in 
Dubois’ hands, crying that she would not submit to it,’ 


14 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 


that she realized that the emperor had given orders 
that she should be sacrificed in order to save his heir ; 
which, by the way, was not true, for Napoleon, as we 
have seen, cried passionately when Dubois warned him 
of the danger to be anticipated from the unfavorable 
symptoms : “ Before everything, save the mother ! ” 

Marie-Louise, in the midst of hef agony, darted a 
furtive, malevolent glance at the door of her husband’s 
cabinet. It may safely be said that the torture of 
maternity had a distinct influence upon her feeling for 
him, and that from that day Napoleon, whom she had 
never loved, who had always been the bugbear of her 
fearful imaginings in the days of her youth at the Aus- 
trian court, as a wicked villain and churl, became in 
her mind at that moment of strained over-sensitive- 
ness, when her mind and her flesh were equally on the 
rack, an object of secret animosity and loathing. As 
to the child who was the cause of all her suffering, 
him she never loved. The poor little fellow, whose 
whole life was no more than a brief spring-time, as 
dark and gloomy as. a rainy autumn, was destined to 
pine away, without father or mother to brighten his 
days. The exigencies of war, an invaded France to 
defend, captivity and slow torture in a far-off island, 
prevented the father from embracing his son. The 
mother was held fast in the arms of the Comte de 
Neipperg, and had other children to caress. 

When Dubois prepared to make use of the forceps, 
the emperor was sent for once more. He had recov- 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 


15 


ered his self-possession and mastered his anguish, and 
was present throughout the operation. He leaned over 
the empress, who was bathed in perspiration, shudder- 
ing, sobbing hysterically, gasping for breath, and suf- 
fering torments. He took her head between his hands ; 
he kissed her forehead softly, lovingly, timidly ; he 
whispered in her ear words of love which she did not 
hear, or which had no power to move her or to impart 
the force and patience which her grave situation de- 
manded. 

The surgeon, meanwhile, had begun to introduce 
the forceps. The child had presented itself feet fore- 
most, and it became necessary to release the head. 

A painful silence filled the room. There were pres- 
ent, beside the emperor and Dubois, Madame de Mon- 
tesquiou, the nurse who had charge of the empress, 
Madame de Montebello, first maid of honor, Madame 
de Lu^ay, lady-in-waiting for the day, the Arch-Chan- 
cellor Cambaceres, and Berthier, Prince de Neufcha- 
tel, the last two having been summoned as witnesses. 

Without, the confused murmur of the crowd, await- 
ing the result in painful suspense, arose like the far-off 
murmuring of the sea. From mouth to mouth, from 
ear to ear, from the empress’s bedside to the guards’ 
quarters, from the vestibule to the sentries, and from 
the latter to the public, the report was passed that the 
empress’s sufferings were increasing, and that the birth 
of a living child was doubtful. Thereupon, every voice 
was hushed, for fear of augmenting the mother’s agony 
and the emperor’s anxiety. 


16 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 


At last Dubois, who had been leaning over the bed 
for a long while, stood erect, and raised his bowed 
head. With a face as pale as death he turned to the 
emperor, holding in his hands a small, white object, 
shapeless and inert. 

“ It is a boy, sire,” he said, in a choking voice. 

A great sigh of relief, in which there was an echo 
of restrained joy, escaped from the father’s breast. 

At last ! Fortune had not forsaken him ! He had 
an heir! The world would have to reckon with a 
Napoleon II ! 

His first impulse was to rush to the surgeon and take 
the child from him ; but Dubois checked him with an 
impatient, imperious gesture, and gazed anxiously at 
the little creature, still apparently lifeless, who had not 
greeted with one of those sharp cries which are the 
reveille of life on his coming forth into the light — a 
poor, weak child, whose limbs did not move, and who 
seemed a morsel of dead flesh taken from the womb of 
a dying mother. 

Napoleon experienced a sudden, sharp contraction 
of every nerve. He rightly interpreted the surgeon’s 
perplexity and doubt. Biting his lips, clenching his 
fists, he struggled to retain the imperial serenity which 
he had thus far exhibited. Had his hopes been raised 
so high only that his despair might be the greater? 
and had fortune, simply to defy him, afforded him this 
brief glance at the child he had so longed for only to 
take it from him again at once ? 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 


17 


He followed in silence, with gloomy, staring eyes, 
every movement of the accoucheur as he endeavored 
to revive the child. 

“ I would have preferred,” he said at a later date, 
“ to be lying in the cemetery at Eylau ! ” 

Dubois, meanwhile, was rubbing the little, soft, dis- 
colored body ; he breathed air into its lungs, placing 
his lips against the cold, still mouth ; he lightly tapped 
its loins, and cautiously rocked it in his arms. 

Seven minute's passed before a cry or a single mani- 
festation of life reassured the agonized father. 

Suddenly the child’s mouth opened, and his first 
cry, more delicious to the emperor’s ears than any tri- 
umphant fanfare of trumpets, arose in the painful 
silence. 

The heir to the empire was alive, undeniably alive ! 

Despite his powers of concentration and his marvel- 
lous control over his emotions, Napoleon could not 
forbear a sort of roar of joy as fierce as the roar of a 
wild beast. 

He seized the child, who was hastily wrapped in 
swaddling-clothes, and rushed into the adjoining salon, 
where all the deputies of the empire, the marshals and 
princes were waiting. With brutal ostentation, in a 
transport of arrogant, vulgar joy, the gratified emperor 
and happy father presented the newlv-born : 

“ Messieurs, this is the King of Rome ! ” 

Thereupon, while, at a signal given from the cha- 
teau, the great bell of Notre-Dame and the cannon at 


18 THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 

the Invalides announced the coming into the world of 
Napoleon 11, the emperor, in the excitement of his 
paternal joy and of his triumph as the founder of a dy- 
nasty, ran out on the balcony of the Tuileries, in the 
front of which the vast throng was waiting, held back 
by a single cord. 

As a trophy of victory and an omen of a glorious 
future he held the imperial child above his head and 
showed him to the people. 

In like manner to the first Frankish kings, who 
were held aloft upon shields, the son of Napoleon, 
amid loud acclamations, the booming of artillery and 
the pealing of bells, received the investiture of his 
nationality. 

The living crown, superposed upon the imperial and 
royal diadems which Napoleon already wore, was 
greeted with the shout, still full of terror for the en- 
emy, still full of joy for France : 

“ Vive V Empereur ! ” 

It was hardly lessened in volume by the muttered 
imprecations of the partisans of the Bourbons scat- 
tered through the crowd. The Marquis de Louvigne 
and the Comte de Maubreuil w r alked rapidly away 
from the Hotel de Nantes, cursing too propitious fate. 
Major Marcel, Abbe Lafon, the monk Camagno and 
the pedagogue Bontreux shortly after left the wine- 
shop, unhappy, vexed, disappointed, and shaking their 
heads anxiously as they said : 

“Let us go to the hospital and consult Philopoe- 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 19 

men. Will not the birth of this child change his 
plans ? ” 

All four of them, becoming every moment more 
thoughtful and perplexed, betook themselves to Doctor 
Dubuisson’s establishment, where General Malet was 
detained. 

No one then foresaw that the birth of the King of 
Rome would be no obstacle to the audacious schemes 
of Malet, and no guaranty of peace for France. 

No one could divine the woeful and touching destiny 
of the poor child, whom his father was never able to 
hold in his arms except when he was a mere infant, 
and whose youth was to wear away in a royal prison 
outside of France, whose language he was forbidden 
to learn, and whose glorious history was hidden from 
him. 

The joyous clangor of the bells and the booming of 
cannon to announce the welcome news excited and in- 
toxicated the people and the court; the foreigner 
bowed, with undiminished respect, before this new 
demonstration of the good-will of destiny. 

The Comte de Provence, in England, on receipt of 
the news, muttered, with a forced smile : 

“ It is written that I shall never sleep at the Tuile- 
ries.” 

The 20th of Mardh, 1811, was the day of triumph, 
the culminating period of Napoleon’s life. 

The upward slope of youth and victory, of bold and 
vigorous climbing, was behind him. After a brief 


20 


THE TWENTIETH OF MARCH. 


sojourn on the summit, the descent, slow at first then 
precipitate, the fall, the abyss with all its horror, Fon- 
tainebleau and the contemplated suicide, treason, abdi- 
cation, Saint-Helena and the insults of the English 
jailer, — such was the fate in store for the sometime 
master of the world, so overjoyed in his paternity on 
this morning of confidence and hope. 


II. 


THE AGENT OF THE PRINCES. 

The Comte de Maubreuil, on parting from the 
Marquis de Louvigne, pressed his hand significantly, 
saying : 

“Fortune will not always favor Napoleon thus! 
We shall meet again, marquis ! ” 

M. de Louvigne shook his head and muttered : 

“ I don’t think it — or, at least, not at once. I am 
going away.” 

“ Would it be impertinent for me to ask the purpose 
of your journey ? ” 

“So long as Bonaparte is there,” said the marquis, 
pointing to the Tuileries, “ I shall remain away from 
France. Oh, I am accustomed to exile ! ” 

“ And you are going — - ” 

“ To London — to join our lawful masters.” 

Maubreuil reflected deeply for a moment. Then 
his restless features lighted up with a smile. 

“ You are accredited to the princes, I know, my 
dear marquis,” he said. “ They listen to you over 
yonder, do they not? and sometimes consult you, I 
think ? ” 


22 


THE AGENT OF THE PRINCES. 


“ Their Royal Highnesses have chosen to express 
their appreciation of my devotion during the emigra- 
tion. The Comte de Provence condescends to honor 
me with his particular good-will, and the Comte d’Ar- 
tois has deigned on several occasions to entrust me 
with difficult commissions, which I have performed to 
his satisfaction.” 

“ You have been something of a conspirator, mar- 
quis?” 

“ I have been in all the conspiracies, monsieur,” re* 
plied M. de Louvigne quickly. “ I have served as 
intermediary between the princes and MM. de Cadou- 
dal, Pichegru, Fouche, Talleyrand and Moreau. Ber- 
nadotte, our last hope, has grown strangely cold. He 
is working for himself at present, is the Prince de 
Ponte-Corvo : he’s an ambitious fellow and an ingrate ! 
we must rely no longer upon such an intriguing villain. 
Ah ! sure men are becoming very rare.” 

“ Others will be found. Fouche and Talleyrand will 
always be on the side of those who are successful. 
But, as I was just saying to you, as we listened to 
that infernal cannon, there is one means, and only one, 
to rid us of the empire.” 

“And that is to make an end of the emperor. We 
have thought of it — we have sought a means — ” 

“ No, no ! the old scheme of civil and military con- 
spiracies is played out, too dangerous, too uncertain. 
Those bungling Philadelphians, of whom you are 


THE AGENT OF THE PRINCES. 


23 


“ Of whom I was one ! I have withdrawn.” 

“ You have done well ! — they never succeeded in 
anything except getting themselves killed, for they 
were always posted in the most dangerous places ; 
those most favored by fortune are out of danger in 
prison. We must attack the tyrant face to face and 
strike him down. That is my way. Will you help 
me to find an opportunity of submitting it to the 
princes ? ” 

“ You have a plan ? ” 

“I shall have one. Take me to London.” 

“ I shall be glad to present you to their Highnesses, 
for you seem to me a determined man.” 

“ They can judge me by my work,” said Maubreuil 
coldly. 

“ But it must be understood that I am to know 
nothing of it ; to-day, to-morrow, or ten years from 
now, I am entirely ignorant of your designs. You 
will accompany me to London — you are a French- 
man, your fidelity to the princes is well known to me, 
you wish to have the honor of offering your homage 
and your respects to your legitimate sovereigns ; so I 
introduce you at their hotel, that’s all. You will have 
told me nothing of your intentions ; is it agreed ? ” 

“ You have my word ! ” 

“ And you mine.” 

“ When do we start ? ” 

“ To-morrow, if you choose. I have noticed divers 
suspicious characters prowling about my lodgings, and 


24 


THE AGENT OF THE PRINCES. 


I don’t choose to be accommodated at Bicetre or 
Sainte-Marguerite at the tyrant’s expense.” 

“ I will strap my valise, marquis, and to-morrow we 
will be off for Calais.” 

“ Tell me, Monsieur de Maubreuil, do you hate 
Napoleon so intensely?” asked M. de Louvigue, look- 
ing the adventurer in the eye. 

“Yes, I hate him, and I mean to be revenged upon 
him ! ” said the Comte de Maubreuil with tremendous 
energy. 

“ And yet you were almost of his household. "Were 
you not equerry at his brother’s court, that Jerome 
Bonaparte, whom he has had the audacity to make 
King of Westphalia! That puppy make kings, for- 
sooth! isn’t it pitiful?” exclaimed the marquis with 
an indignant shrug. 

“ Ah ! you have heard my story ? ” said Maubreuil. 
“ It was a common-place affair enough ! The queen 
had shown some interest in me, and Jerome took of- 
fence at it. He went to his brother with his tale of 
woe, and he, instead of laughing at it and advising the 
unhappy husband to show the philosophical tempera- 
ment which is adapted to such occasions, made him 
self the avenger of Jerome’s honor. I was on the eve 
of obtaining the very valuable post of commissioner on 
the Spanish frontier, and Napoleon with a stroke of 
his pen rained me. He struck my name off the list of 
candidates, and forbade any one mentioning me to 
him. I believe he was jealous on his own account, 


THE AGENT OF THE PRINCES. 


25 


and had designs on the Queen of Westphalia. Poor 
Catherine of Wurtemberg! Ah, I pity her from the 
bottom of my heart, and her, too, I seek to avenge by 
striking down the accursed Corsican. Marquis, I am 
in haste to place my hatred and my energy at the ser- 
vice of our princes ! ” 

“ I will assist you to do it, but let us be prudent. 
Bonaparte’s police have ears everywhere. Farewell 
until to-morrow, in the court-yard of the Hotel des 
Messageries.” 

“ Until to-morrow ! Vive Dieu! marquis, this meet- 
ing of ours is an unexpected bit of good fortune, and 
this day no longer seems so utterly hateful to me ! ” 

“You forgive the King of Rome for being born? ” 

“ The King of Rome ? Oh ! that kinglet shall have 
his turn, too. Just let him fall into my hands ! ” 

“Would you kill him, too?” sa : d M. de Louvigne, 
impressed by Maubreuil’s vindictive tone and the fierce 
light that gleamed in his eyes. And he added between 
his teeth, as if moved to pity for the little fellow in 
anticipation : 

“ A mere child ! You hesitate at nothing ! Ah ! 
you are a terrible man ! ” 

“ So ’tis said,” assented the wretch, as if it were the 
greatest compliment that could be paid him, and he 
muttered with a fiendish grimace : 

“ The child will grow. When the lion is out of the 
way it would be folly to let the cub live. Until to- 
morrow, and down with the agents of the Corsican ! ” 


26 


THE AGENT OF THE PRINCES. 


Five days after this understanding was reached, the 
Comte de Maubreuil, on the recommendation of the 
Marquis de Louvigne, was admitted to the presence of 
the Comte de Provence, who was to be known one 
day in history as Louis XVIII. 

The future king of France occupied a sumptuous 
residence of the Duke of Buckingham, called Hart- 
well. 

There, surrounded by all the luxuries of an old- 
fashioned English seignorial mansion, Stanislas-Xavier, 
Comte de Provence, was awaiting, none too confidently, 
the time when France, recovering from her revolu- 
tionary divagations, should drive out the usurper, and 
restore to him the crown of his brother, Louis XVI. 

A shrewd and calculating man, of a literary turn of 
mind, and a prudent politician, Stanislas-Xavier, Comte 
de Provence, did not blind himself to the difficulties 
in the way of a restoration. 

He had so often heard discouraging words whispered 
in his ear, and had seen so many indications of lassi- 
tude among his followers, that he listened but indif- 
ferently to the occasional but rare references to his 
approaching return to the palace of the Tuileries, 
which were purred in his ear, without deep conviction, 
as a mere commonplace compliment and obligatory 
formula, by the faithful royalists, growing ever fewer 
in number, who visited him in his exile, bringing their 
valueless homage, and offering their rusty swords. 

He looked on from a distance at the delirious en- 


THE AGENT OF THE PRINCES. 


27 


thusiasm of France in her glory. The uproar of her 
victories, while it did not stun him, drowned the voices 
of the flatterers who were forever predicting the fall 
of Napoleon. 

He no longer believed in the success of conspiracies 
or rebellions. He went over in his mind, without sad- 
ness, but with philosophical resignation and a sceptical 
smile, the long list of those who had devoted them- 
selves to his service and gallantly laid down their lives 
for him, all to no purpose. He in no wise sought to 
raise up imitators of the Cadoudals and Frottes, whose 
race seemed to him to be extinct. He placed but little 
faith in the schemes of conspirators, those bungling 
idiots who always succeeded in getting taken before 
carrying out their plans, or whose machines, no matter 
how deadly their construction, infallibly exploded at 
the wrong moment. For a brief space he had had 
some hope of Bernadotte, who had been described to 
him as a clever, intriguing personage, terribly jealous 
of Napoleon, ready to betray him, and to turn against 
him his great influence, his former connections with 
the soldiers who had held aloof from the emperor, and 
his prestige in the sight of those infrequent republi- 
cans who respected in him the general who attended 
Bonaparte’s reception in civilian’s dress on the morn- 
ing of the 18th Brumaire. Bernadotte could not claim 
to wear the crown upon his own head, but when Crom- 
well was overthrown, he might act the part of Monk 
and restore the legitimate king. 


28 


THE AGENT OF THE PRINCES. 


But this dream faded. Bernadotte cut short the pre- 
liminary negotiations. It was said that he was on the 
lookout for a principality, perhaps a kingdom, some- 
where in Europe, where, throwing off all vassalage, 
and with it all gratitude to Napoleon, he would seek 
to solidify his infant throne by leaning upon the old 
monarchies. 

But for the present at least there was nothing to be 
hoped from this ambitious sergeant, who had become 
a marshal of the empire and Prince de Ponte-Corvo. 
For what could an exiled prince, whose chances of 
restoration seemed so problematical, give him, or even 
promise him, for that matter ? 

The circumspect Comte de Provence repeated to 
himself, with an ironical grimace, the names of all 
those former retainers of his family, sons of the court- 
iers of Louis XV and Louis XVI, descendants of 
heroic ancestors, who had one by one accepted offices, 
donations, commands, and some even new titles of 
nobility from this petty Corsican squire who had be- 
come their master. 

Thereupon, without spoken recrimination, without 
crying .out against the backslidings, without regret for 
the desertions, feeling that he was forgotten by the 
French, despised by all the kings of Europe, treated 
with consideration, but with no promise of support, by 
England, Stanislas -Xavier, already very stout and 
disinclined to physical exercise, while waiting for his 
good dinner (for, like all the Bourbons, he was a great 





1 1[ i 1 

1 

SI 

ill 

H 

ml 


THE COMTE DE P ROVE NOE. WITHOUT LAYING ASIDE HIS HORACE 
OIi PUTTING DOWN THE PENCIL. 


THE AGENT OF THE PRINCES. 


29 


eater), would tranquilly bury himself in his arm-chair, 
cease to think of the crown, and taking his Elzevir 
Horace in his hand, would read an ode, and annotate it 
as he read, with the calmness of a scholar withdrawn 
from the world. 

When the Marquis d’Orvault, Comte de Maubreuil, 
was announced, the Comte de Provence, without lay- 
ing aside his Horace, nor putting down the pencil 
which he was using to perpetuate his reflections in 
marginal notes, sat up straight in his chair, and re- 
sumed his air of majesty. He glanced at the per- 
sonage announced, in a mirror, and muttered with an 
ironical curl of the lip : 

“That’s a fine face for a bravo.” 

While Maubreuil was performing the proper saluta- 
tion, and M. de Blacas rapidly enumerating the titles 
of this Frenchman who had come to England for the 
express purpose of laying his homage at the feet of 
the man whom he recognized as his sovereign, the 
Comte de Provence was saying to himself : 

“They propose to throw me a bait in the shape of 
some barrack conspiracy, some garrison affray ! This 
fellow, who seems to have been most familiar with the 
high-roads, will either be taken or. shot,- unless they 
prefer to cast him into some very far-off and very dark 
dungeon ; or he will escape, and having been unsuc- 
cessful, there will be nothing for him to get and he 
will not dare ask for anything. In one or the other 
way 1 shall be rid of him, so I can afford to listen to 


30 


THE AGENT OF THE PRINCES. 


him, for that binds me to nothing, and affords my de- 
voted Blacas a vast amount of pleasure. I should 
much prefer to continue my tete-a-tete with Horace, 
however.” 

Due Casimir de Blacas d’Aulps, a descendant of 
the famous Blacas, the friend of the troubadours, a 
great fencer, great taker of fortresses, and great van- 
quisher of fair Provengales, was the confidential friend 
and the secretary of the Comte de Provence. He had 
followed him everywhere — to Coblentz, to St. Peters- 
burg, to London, during his peregrinations as a prince 
errant. In his capacity of faithful squire, Blacas often 
compared himself to Sancho Panza, with this differ- 
ence, that he appeared very thin and lean, with his 
sharp, ascetic features and his sunken eyes, beside his 
royal master, who presented the fat paunch and ro- 
tund cheeks of the gallant Governor of Barataria. 

Blacas was introducer-in-ordinary of conspirators. 
He performed those functions more frequently than 
those of chamberlain or master of ceremonies at audi- 
ences to ambassadors from crowned heads. The ex- 
iled prince held very few receptions in his much 
reduced court at Hartwell. A few private visitors, 
courtiers of misfortune, came there at long intervals, 
only to meet rascals of suspicious appearance, with 
scarred faces, tanned by exposure to sun and wind, 
who exhibited certificates of loyalty, sometimes showed 
their wounds, and told of their adventurous expedi- 
tions in the marshes of the Machecoul country, and 


THE AGENT OF THE PRINCES. 


31 


their patient ambuscades in the hedges of Cotentin. 
These forlorn hopes of Chouannerie cursed the repub- 
lic and prated of their purpose to make an end of Bo- 
naparte. They offered to recommence the war of the 
forests, assuring his majesty that a simple signal woulo 
suffice to raise six departments in the West, and one 
energetic man, to escort the king to Paris, at the head 
of battalions of victorious peasants marching beneath 
the fleur-de-lis. 

Invariably his majesty would reply that the time 
seemed to him ill chosen for a descent on the Norman 
coast, and that he preferred to wait; whereupon the 
visitor would retire, not without soliciting something in 
the way of indemnity for the horses he had lost, or the 
baggage pillaged by the unchained devils of the 
usurper’s infernal columns. 

So the audience would end. Blacas, grumbling, 
would furnish the indemnity, and Stanislas - Xavier 
would lie back in his arm-chair, take up his Horace 
once more and go on annotating the odes. 

On this occasion, however, the strongly-accentuated 
countenance of Maubreuil, his harsh features, his bird- 
of-prey nose (which made him slightly resemble the 
great Conde), his resolute bearing, and the soldierly 
fashion in which he came forward, prepossessed the 
prince in his favor. 

“ Perhaps,” he thought, “ this man is not a wild 
enthusiast, with insane whims in his head like the 
others. I will listen to him.” 


32 


THE AGENT OF THE PRINCES. 


And, with the smile which had become habitual to 
him, and also laying aside for the moment the scepti- 
cism which was the principal buttress of his character, 
the count waved his visitor to a seat. 

Maubreuil bowed, but did not sit down, and waited 
for the prince to speak to him. 

“You come from Paris, monsieur?” the pretender 
began, sitting erect and coughing slightly, like a priest 
making ready to listen to confession ; “ what news do 
you bring ? — bad, is it not ? ” 

“ Detestable, monseigneur ! ” 

“ General Bonaparte is still victorious, acclaimed, 
popular ? ” 

“Fortune has smiled upon him once more, alas! 
and the birth of this child, whom he intends to make 
his heir, seems to strengthen the foundations of his 
throne, which is, however, insecure and tottering.” 

“ You judge thus, monsieur, and I congratulate you 
upon your clear-sightedness. This empire, founded 
upon violence, upon abuse of strength, upon contempt 
for liberty and freedom of conscience, cannot endure ; 
but the French, forgetful, ungrateful, and fascinated 
by success, are very far from having your praisewor- 
thy sentiments. The French hardly remember their 
former kings. But you, monsieur, who come hither 
to bring us in our exile the homage of your fidelity, 
are a noteworthy exception ! Ah ! you will find but 
few imitators,” added the Comte de Provence, with 
a melancholy smile ; “ and you must have noticed as 


THE AGENT OF THE PRINCES. 33 

you passed through my antechamber that guests like 
yourself are rare.” 

“ A sudden occurrence may fill these salons with an 
eager crowd.” 

“ What occurrence ? I do not understand.” 

“ The death of Bonaparte ! ” said Maubreuil, firmly. 

“ Do you think that that occurrence, as you call it, 
would be calculated to bring about such a change? 
Bonaparte has the army on his side, also a very large 
administrative force, which there is every reason to 
think is devoted to him ; a crowd of marshals about 
him, whose swords would protect his son and heir. Do 
you really think, monsieur, that the empire is such a 
fragile structure? Would you dare to assert that its 
institutions are destined to live no longer than their 
author ? ” 

“ The emperor dead, the empire will crumble into 
dust, monseigneur. The army, weary of fighting and 
of being transported from north to south, from the 
banks of the Vistula to those of the Tagus, asks for 
nothing but peace, longs for nothing so much as 
repose. The death of Napoleon will give it the one 
at once, and guaranty the other in the near future, 
while leaving it its glorious past. The army will de- 
mand nothing more. The marshals, divided, jealous, 
and no less fatigued fhan the army, — indeed, their 
weariness is both mental and physical, — will never 
agree as to the division of authority in case of a re- 
gency. The majority of them are even more desirous 


34 


THE AGENT OF THE PRINCES. 


than their troops of an opportunity to lay down their 
arms at last. They have estates, chateaux and young 
wives, and long to enjoy the years of comparative 
strength and fragile health which they have still before 
them ; they will not foolishly take horse again and 
fight against Europe, and perhaps against the French 
themselves, to assure Napoleon’s son the disputed heri- 
tage, which he cannot possibly retain entire, and which 
should return to its legitimate possessors ! The mar- 
shals, overjoyed to be treated by your royal highness 
as great vassals of the crown, and proud to see their 
nobility, won on the battle-field, recognized as equal to 
nobility of birth — for you will be compelled to ac- 
knowledge that equality — will be the firmest props of 
your restored throne ! As for the child they call the 
King of Rome, he cannot support the weight of the 
crown upon his feeble brow ; he will be over-weighted 
by the mere name of the soldier so long held in awe, 
whose adventures and master-strokes he will be called 
upon to continue ; he will be a mere shadow of the 
emperor, — a royal phantom. Napoleon dead, no one, 
believe me, my prince, will dare to promise that he 
will live again in the person of a mere babe ! ” 

“You may be right, monsieur,” said the Comte de 
Provence, reflecting deeply, his customary ironical 
tone having given place to the serious bearing of a 
statesman ; “ the empire will fall on the day when he, 
who is all in all in that vast State, is no longer stand- 
ing. But how to strike him down ? He seems to be 


THE AGENT OF THE PRINCES. 


35 


in vigorous health : he is still young, — much younger 
than I. Do you happen to have an intuition of this 
momentous occurrence to which you just now alluded, 
and which would bring about the great revolution in 
the destinies of France which you tell me you so ear- 
nestly desire ? ” 

“ Your Royal Highness has guessed, but I have some- 
thing more than an intuition, it is a certainty in my 
mind : nothing more would be necessary than — ” 

“ Enough, monsieur,” said the Comte de Provence, 
hastily. “ It is not for me to hear more. I live here 
in peaceable seclusion, far from political excitement, 
patiently awaiting the revival of my fortunes, tete-a- 
tete with my old Blacas, and my Horace, who is ever 
young. I do not choose to concern myself with uncer- 
tain happenings, desirable beyond question, but which 
it is impossible for me to hasten. If you have any 
hopes, and any design which justifies you in anticipat- 
ing their realization more or less promptly, communi- 
cate with M. de Blacas ; he is interested in these 
hopeful hypotheses ; as to myself, monsieur le comte, 
1 am done with them, absolutely done with them! 
Let us talk of something else, if you please. Have 
you seen the tragedy of Marius a Minturnes played at 
Paris ? There are many fine lines in it, and I much 
regret my inability to applaud Talma, whose apting is 
most admirable, so I am told.” 

The conversation continued for some time upon in- 
different subjects, until the Comte de Provence indi- 


36 


THE AGENT OF THE PRINCES. 


cated that the audience was at an end and he must 
resume his annotations of Horace. 

Maubreuil took his leave with great respect. 

M. de Blacas accompanied him and proposed to 
show him the superb beauties of the park. They 
strolled under the leafy arches of centenarian oaks, 
where graceful, timid deer were bounding about. 

Maubreuil, who perfectly understood the count’s re- 
serve, disclosed his whole plan to the confidant. 
Without reservation he laid bare his sinister projects 
to M. de Blacas. The emperor must be put to death, 
and the King of Borne abducted ; then, amid the gen- 
eral confusion and dismay, a restoration might be at- 
tempted. 

M. de Blacas listened without repugnance. He did 
not dare signify his approbation of the plot. He 
contented himself with not attempting to dissuade the 
adventurer, and exhibiting no indignation when the 
infamous scheme was laid before him. It was evident 
that the Comte de Provence and his secretary, being 
altogether uncertain of success, might desire to disavow 
all connivance with the assassin, if he failed in his 
criminal enterprise. At heart they desired that he 
might be successful, and said nothing to discourage 
him. 

“ What do you ask for yourself, Monsieur de Mau- 
breuil ? ” said Blacas, as he was about to part from the 
adventurer at the park limits. 

“ Nothing — save the gratitude of my king on the 


the agent of the princes. 


37 


day when, France being by my hand delivered from 
the tyrant who now oppresses her, his Majesty takes 
his seat upon the throne of his ancestors at the 
Tuileries.” 

“ Go then, monsieur, and may divine Providence 
assist you! Your enterprise is a bold one, but the 
Lord, who encouraged Judith to smite Holofernes in 
the midst of his camp, and upheld Judas Maccabaeus 
against Antiochus, will look favorably upon your de- 
sign, since its aim is to deliver an enslaved people, and 
since it tends to restore the sovereign power, usurped 
by a bandit who is also a scoffer, to the legitimate 
master. To the honor of seeing you again, and the 
pleasure of hearing good tidings of you, monsieur le 
comte ! ” 

The two men saluted each other most ceremoniously 
and parted. 

Maubreuil, wending his way on foot to his inn, said 
to himself in deep perplexity : 

“ I must expect this evasive manner of receiving 
my suggestions ! Vague words, promises in the air, 
but nothing precise, nothing explicit and sincere ! — 
not an outspoken order to do this or that, not even 
unmistakable approval ! Ah ! these princes are terri- 
bly afraid of compromising themselves ! — and with it 
all, not a crown from his purse ! ” 

He gave a shrug expressive of indifference, then 
muttered with a grimace : 

“ Let us see ! I promised them that the emperor 


38 


THE AGENT OF THE PRINCES. 


should die very soon. That promise of mine seemed 
to smooth the wrinkles from our pursy highness’s 
brow, and made his lantern-jawed secretary smile ; 
both apparently had confidence in me — now I must 
prove that I was not gasconading ! Bonaparte is alive 
and popular ; how am I to go to work to arrange it so 
that within a month he will be dead and execrated? 
How am I to bring about his death ? Bah ! I’ll go 
back to the inn, and eat my supper in peace; ideas 
will come to me while I am discussing the substantial 
repast the hostess was to make ready for me! The 
prince’s comfortable paunch has turned my thoughts 
towards gourmandizing.” 

Thereupon, Maubreuil, casting care to the winds, 
trusting in his audacity, sure of his own resources, and 
confident of finding ere long some means of disposing 
of Napoleon, betook himself in high good humor to 
the hostelry of the Royal Oak, exclaiming in bad 
English as he stood in the door-way : 

“ Hola ! Mistress Betsey, my supper, is it ready ? 
Allons ! let one bring me a cup of wine of the Cana- 
ries, that I drink to your sign, charming Mistress Bet- 
sey, as says that excellent Sir John Falstaff, the great- 
est man of all your England ! ” 

“Sir John Falstaff, say you?” rejoined the land- 
lady ; “ I don’t know him. A many lords and baro- 
nights come here though, sir,” she added, with a toss 
of her head, and preceded Maubreuil to the coffee- 
room, where no smoking supper awaited him. 


in. 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 

Mistress Betsey Chestnut, hostess of the inn of 
the Royal Oak, a buxom matron, tall as a mast, with 
good Saxon jaws protruding like a gunport, through 
which peered the artillery of a formidable row of 
teeth, divined the displeasure of the French gentleman. 

She apologized for not having prepared the supper. 
It was the fault of her husband, Billy Chestnut, an 
estimable paterfamilias, highly considered in the par- 
ish, but who had the lamentable habit of getting tipsy 
whenever a guest of distinction alighted at the Royal 
Oak. 

The opportunity was frequently afforded him, for 
the Comte de Provence’s sojourn at the great house 
attracted many distinguished foreigners, including many 
very amiable and very talkative Frenchmen. These 
latter came regularly to inquire as to the count’s 
health, his habits, the visitors he received and the let- 
ters he despatched. They seemed loth to intrude in- 
discreetly upon. the solitude of the exiled count, and 
never asked to see him, but they spent money freely, 
they were almost all jovially inclined and not at all 


40 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAR. 


hard to please ; they simply desired to obtain accurate 
information as to everything that took place in the 
household of the Comte de Provence. They were not 
too proud to talk at length with the servants in order 
to inform themselves as to the most trivial movements 
of the royal princes, and the most minute details of the 
life they led. 

“ Frenchmen devotedly attached to their sovereign 
in adversity ! ” was the conclusion of the excellent 
Betsey. 

“ Spies of Napoleon ! ” thought Maubreuil, and he 
added aloud: “ Has one of these same Frenchmen 
arrived to day, that your husband has got tipsy, and 
the supper is late ? ” 

“ Indeed, sir, there is a gentleman here, who I sup- 
pose is a Frenchman : he has a servant with him.” 

“ Ah ! ” muttered Maubreuil, unpleasantly surprised : 
‘‘can it be that the police are on my track so soon, 
and that Rovigo has already sent one of his agents 
after me ? Bah ! let us have a look at the blood- 
hound, and if his scent is too keen, or his fangs too 
long — ” 

An expressive gesture completed the thought of the 
unscrupulous adventurer. 

“ May one see him, this Frenchman ? ” he asked the 
hostess. 

“ He’s in the next room, warming his feet and wait- 
ing for supper ; his servant’s asleep in the stable. 
Shall I call him?” 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 


41 


“ I will speak to the master ; I shall know how to 
announce myself ! ” said Maubreuil. 

And with an air of decision he pushed open the 
door of the room, where the traveller was sitting by 
the hearth, with papers in his hand. 

Maubreuil said to himself: ‘‘Either I have to do 
with one of Rovigo’s agents who has been sent to spy 
upon me, and in that case he knows who I am ; or 
else he is some royalist clown come to offer his homage 
to the Comte de Provence, from devotion to his cause, 
or for what he can make, and in that case he probably 
never heard of me. It is useless, therefore, to con- 
ceal myself.” 

He walked into the room deliberately, and with off- 
hand courtesy saluted the traveller, who was a man of 
distinguished bearing, with regular features, and ap* 
parently about forty years old. 

“ You are French, monsieur, so our hostess tells 
me,” he said, “ and so am I. As chance has brought 
us together so far from home, will you do me the 
honor to share my supper, which seems to have been 
delayed so that we might break bread together. We 
shall find it easier to be patient, if we converse. I am 
Comte de Maubreuil.” 

The stranger half rose from his chair, bowed, and 
said courteously, as he hurriedly gathered up hisjet- 
ters which he seemed desirous to conceal from his un- 
known visitor : 

“ I gladly accept your polite suggestion, monsieur ; 


42 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 


it will be very agreeable to me to take supper with 
you. But first you must know that I haven’t the 
honor of being your compatriot. I am the Comte de 
Neipperg, Minister Plenipotentiary of his Majesty the 
Emperor of Austria — at present on leave of absence. 
I am travelling for pleasure.” 

“ And I for my health ! ” quickly rejoined Mau- 
breuil, who did not for a moment believe in the fable 
of a diplomatist travelling for pleasure in the neigh- 
borhood of the princes’ place of residence. 

“ Very good ! Monsieur, I congratulate myself 
upon the chance which brought us together, and I 
leave it to you to spur on our hostess, for the journey 
has sharpened my appetite.” 

“ I’ll just cast a glance at the ovens, scold Betsey, 
and waken her sot of a husband if I can.” 

“ Do so, monsieur, if you please ; meanwhile I will 
finish reading these letters — family letters which I 
found waiting for me at London day before yester- 
day,” added Neipperg carelessly. 

Maubreuil, as he left the room to perform his self- 
imposed functions of majordomo, muttered to himself : 

“ Hum ! family letters upon that fine paper with an 
eagle and a crown — imperial paper ! They have a 
suspicious look to me ! Can it be. that this pretended 
Comte de Neipperg belongs to Napoleon’s family ? ” 

Suddenly he struck his forehead and stood still upon 
the steps leading to the inn yard, where he could hear 
a sonorous snore indicating the proximity of Billy 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 


43 


Chestnut in the act of sleeping off the effects of his 
welcome to the French traveller. 

“ Fool that I am!” he exclaimed. “I seem to be 
losing my memory ! The Comte de Neipperg ! Par- 
bleu! that’s the Austrian diplomatist that the news- 
papers of London and the Hague had so much to say 
about at one time. He was in love with Marie-Louise, 
and was surprised in her room one night by Napoleon, 
so they say. Ah ! he’s well-met, and if, with the help 
of our good hostess’s ale and whiskey, the tongue of 
the empress’s lover itches to narrate his amorous ad- 
ventures, he’ll find a pair of ears ready to listen ! An 
evicted lover like himself can’t be very fond of Napo- 
leon, and perhaps we may come to an understanding. 
But what the devil is he doing here ? No matter ! he 
will tell me, or I’ll guess — when our elbows are on 
the table ! ” 

Postponing till the supper should be in progress the 
investigations he proposed to undertake, Maubreuil 
found his way into the cellar, shook the sleeping land- 
lord, dragged him out half-awake into the daylight, 
and drove him to the kitchen with a blow between 
the shoulder-blades. Then he hunted up the bouncing 
Betsey, spurred her on to renewed exertion, and at last 
returned to the room where Neipperg awaited him, 
triumphantly preceding an enormous joint of roast 
beef, done to a turn, and surrounded by a white wreath 
of appetizing potatoes. 

The two travellers did full justice to the repast, 


44 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 


which was served in great abundance, and washed 
down with excellent ale in pewter pint pots, drawn by 
honest Billy Chestnut, who was sober at last, and 
ready to begin his libations again upon the arrival of 
the next new guest whom Providence should send to 
the Royal Oak. 

The two guests, closely observant of each other, 
measured their words and spoke only on the most gen- 
eral subjects, — the difference between life in England 
and life in France and Austria : the difficulties of 
making one’s self understood by postilions and ser- 
vants, who purposely confused their idioms, suppressed 
syllables, and slurred over the beginning of their 
words, to make themselves unintelligible and compel 
the employment of guides. From that they went on 
to discuss the terms of peace and the probabilities of 
a new war. Russia was said to be preparing large ar- 
maments. On his side Napoleon seemed to be on the 
lookout for an opportunity to take the field. 

It was the first time Napoleon’s name had been 
pronounced, and Maubreuil detected a gleam in Neip- 
perg’s eyes. 

“ You seem not to have a very deep admiration for 
Bonaparte ? ” he said calmly, attacking the rich, smok- 
ing plum-pudding which Mistress Betsey placed upon 
the table. 

“I hate him!” said Neipperg, hotly. “I don’t 
know, monsieur,” he resumed more quietly, “ whether 
you are a friend or an enemy of that man ; but I am 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 


45 


in England, a free country, and I haven’t the power 
to conceal the feelings which I experience every time 
that the name, the person or the acts of the monster 
are mentioned in my presence ! ” 

“You may give free rein to your just animosity, 
Monsieur de Neipperg; I, too, am an enemy of Na- 
poleon. Have you personal reasons for your dislike 
of the tyrant?” inquired Maubreuil, affecting com- 
plete ignorance of the adventure of the palace at Com- 
piegne, of which Marie-Louise’s lover was the unlucky 
hero. 

“Yes,” said Neipperg, with an effort; “he has 
taken from me what was more to me than my life.” 

“ Your country ? ” said Maubreuil, with well-coun- 
terfeited simplicity. “ I thought you were an Aus- 
trian. Can it be that you are an Italian, Spaniard, 
Saxon, Wurtemberger, Dutchman or Frenchman? 
Austria, happily, like England, has thus far escaped 
the talons of the greedy vulture who assumes the airs 
of an eagle ! ” 

“ My country is thus far out of reach of his violence, 
but Napoleon has humiliated me,” replied Neipperg : 
“he has put upon me one of those deadly insults 
which a man does not forgive, — he struck me in the 
face, he beat me across the shoulders with my epau- 
lettes, which he tore off while his Mamelukes held me 
down — ” 

“ Strike a nobleman like yourself, an ambassador, 
an officer ! — that was a serious matter.” 


46 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 


“ Nothing would stay his hand. But he insulted 
me even more irreparably. I might, upon freeing my- 
self, have drawn my sword, but they disarmed me in 
time.” 

“And you succeeded in escaping his Mamelukes, 
his vengeance ? ” 

“Yes; he pardoned me,” said Neipperg, gloomily; 
“ I owe my life to him ; they were about to shoot me, 
when suddenly help came. I was allowed to escape ; 
and I had to promise the person who took so deep an 
interest in me not to try to avenge myself, nor to 
cleanse my sullied honor in Napoleon’s blood ! ” 

“ Shall you keep to your oath ? ” 

“Yes, I must,” said Neipperg, struggling to be calm. 
“ I promised, and before a witness, too ! ” 

“ The devil ! Who was the witness ? ” 

“ A friend such as no man ever had, who has twice 
saved my life ; the best and bravest of women in a he- 
roic sense, — Marechale Lefebvre.” 

“Madame Sans-Gene? She has your promise to 
undertake nothing against Napoleon ? ” 

“Yes ; she it was who rescued me from Napoleon’s 
Mamelukes, from Rovigo’s spies, from the platoon of 
grenadiers furnished by her husband for my execution ; 
I gave her my promise and I will keep it. If you 
ever see the marechale — ” 

“ I know her slightly ; I intend to pay my respects 
to her immediately upon reaching Paris.” 

“ Pray tell her that I do not forget my oath.” 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 


47 


“ I will gladly deliver the message ; but,” he con- 
tinued after a pause, “ the person in whose name the 
promise was exacted from you will surely release you 
from it ! ” 

“ No ! she will not authorize any direct act on my 
part against Napoleon. Alas ! the fellow’s life is 
sacred to me above all men ! ” said Neipperg, deject- 
edly. 

“ This worthy is not the man I need,” thought Mau- 
breuil. “ He hates Napoleon even more than I do, 
and for a different reason ; but he has a string around 
his leg ! — when it’s time to go forward he would re- 
main behind. Parbleu! that’s where Marie-Louise 
comes in ! he doesn’t choose to make himself an impossi- 
ble lover by throwing the Corsican ogre’s corpse be- 
tween his fair empress and himself. Ha ! ha ! ” he 
muttered with a smile, “M. de Neipperg would un- 
doubtedly like to succeed Napoleon, but not in the 
same place as the excellent Comte de Provence. ’Tis 
the imperial bed and not the throne that has an attrac- 
tion for him. After all, perhaps he’s right! Women 
are as dangerous as conspiracies, and sometimes more 
agreeable ! I’ll give up all thought of M. de Neipperg 
as an associate — he’s a lover simply ; and there’s no 
such thing as undertaking any serious political affairs 
with those sensitive fellows. At the crucial mo- 
ment they faint or commit suicide. I will act by 
myself ! ” 

Having indulged in these reflections, Maubreuil 


48 


NAPOLEON At THE ROYAL OAK. 


viciously attacked the succulent plum-pudding, and 
said to Neipperg, whose brow was still clouded : 

“Give me a glass of that potent whiskey, count. 
We’ll wash down Betsey’s pudding with it, and clink 
our glasses to the downfall, the death of the tyrant, 
in the old French fashion ! ” 

“ Death is the secret of Providence, but Napoleon’s 
downfall depends upon men. Before long we shall 
witness it ! ” 

“ Do you think so ? Delicious, this whiskey ! it 
scorches the palate like a red-hot iron. So you think 
that Bonaparte isn’t in it for long ? ” said Maubreuil, 
carelessly. 

“ I am sure of it ! Don’t you see what is preparing 
for him ? Spain is a volcano, extinct only in appear- 
ance, and soon to break forth in eruption anew, sweep- 
ing away the best troops of the empire in its floods of 
molten lava. England has taught Portugal how to 
fight and conquer the legions which were deemed in- 
vincible. Germany is trembling with impatience to 
drive out the foreigner : her poets are inspiring her 
young men with love of country and thirst for ven- 
geance. Napoleon will soon find himself confronted, 
not by an army with little or no experience seeking 
to discover the tactics of Frederick the Great, but by 
a whole people on their feet and rushing to arms, like 
your France of 1792 ! ” 

“It will be a dangerous moment for him ! ” 

“ It will be terrible ! Oh, what a sublime spectacle ! 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 


49 


I am awaiting it — indeed, I am helping prepare it ! ” 
exclaimed Neipperg with a sort of feverish exultation ; 
“ but even that will not be enough to crush the co- 
lossus.” 

“ What have you in mind beyond that ? ” 

“A snare which Napoleon is laying for himself, 
and into which he will inevitably fall.” 

“ Where, pray ? ” 

“ In the North ! ” 

“ In Russia ? Will Napoleon be so mad ? Do you 
believe it?” 

“ It is already done. Drunk with glory, and with 
his head in a whirl like a man standing on the edge of 
the vat where wine is fermenting, believing everything 
possible and permissible, he is all ready at this mo- 
ment to provoke the Emperor Alexander.” 

“His former friend? Why, did not his Imperial 
Majesty embrace Bonaparte at Erfurt ? ” 

“ Only that he might learn to strangle him. The 
czar is an Oriental, and knows how to defend himself 
with cunning. Napoleon, drawn on against his better 
judgment, apropos of the poor Prince of Oldenbourg, 
who was unjustly arrested, vented his spleen against 
Alexander at a State reception at the Tuileries ; he 
exhibited, in presence of Kouriakin, the Russian am- 
bassador, who was entirely out of countenance, his 
strength, his genius, his prestige ; he indulged in num- 
berless absurd boasts, trying to terrify the northern 
bear from a distance. The bear will lure him on, 


50 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 


retreating before him to the heart of his cave, and 
there will devour him ! ” 

“You deem the war inevitable, then, and likely to 
end in disaster?’' 

“ Yes, happily for France, soon to be enfranchised ; 
for Europe, freed from a horrible nightmare ; for the 
Comte de Provence, to whom I have made known my 
hopes, and who will restore to your unhappy nation, 
with lasting peace, the regime under which she so long 
flourished.” 

“ In that case you will have your revenge sooner 
than you hoped,” said Maubreuil. “ I congratulate 
you — ” 

“ Oh, I was at the end of my resources ! 99 cried 
Neipperg, excitedly : “ that man’s career was too tri- 
umphant ! Consider that I found him in my path at 
every step, blocking my way, wounding my honor, 
overwhelming me with the insolent arrogance of his 
good fortune ; at the preliminaries of Leoben ; at Campo- 
Formio, where I acted as coadjutor of M. de Cobent- 
zel ; later, at Vienna ; and, last of all, very recently, at 
a most painful epoch for myself.” 

“ At Paris ! ” 

“Yes, at Paris, and at Compiegne as well; I en- 
counter Napoleon everywhere. Oh, I was begin- 
ning to despair of my revenge ! I could not look far 
enough ahead to see when and in what way I should 
be permitted to taste the sweets of satisfied vengeance ; 
and do you know ” — here the gloomy diplomat, biting 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 


51 


his lips as he realized how garrulous he had been, and 
that in the intensity of his hatred he had laid bare his 
heart before this stranger, suddenly changed his man- 
ner and the tone of his voice and became almost jovial 
— “ do you know, my dear monsieur, how I deceived 
my constantly postponed vengeance, and compelled 
my hatred to take patience ? Ah ! it’s most diverting, 
and you will laugh heartily with me. You could 
never guess my invention, which is somewhat vulgar 
and undignified, I admit ; but with Jupiter-Scapin, as 
the knave Joseph calls his worthy brother, a little com- 
edy is not out of place, and farce may be tolerated. 
Come, what do you suppose ? — can you guess ? ” 

“ Faith, no ! ” 

“Very well; I will show you my trick. To your 
mind it will be folly, pure and simple ; but I take 
profound satisfaction in it, and relieve my mind with 
it constantly. You will laugh, perhaps. It will re- 
joice my heart to have a spectator for my pantomime, 
in which Napoleon is the clown ! ” 

Thereupon Neipperg, who seemed to have laid 
aside his dejection altogether, arose with the air of a 
student finishing his task, opened the door, and cried : 
“ Napoleon ! Napoleon ! ” 

“ Is he mad ? ” thought Maubreuil ; “ or has Mistress 
Betsey’s whiskey gone to his head ? ” 

“ You will see him in a moment, — he’s an amusing 
knave,” said Neipperg, turning to his companion. 
“ Look ! listen ! ” 


52 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 


Thereupon a strange figure appeared in the door- 
way. 

The reddish flare of the dying fire on the hearth, 
and the flickering flame of the smoking candles, with 
yellow stalactites of hardened tallow clinging to the 
candlesticks, cast an uncertain light upon the extraor- 
dinary apparition. 

A man with a slight stoop, with his head bent for- 
ward, and his hands folded behind his back, walked 
slowly into the room, enveloped in the gray redingote, 
with the small, three-cornered hat upon his head, the 
traditional green coat, white waistcoat, cashmere 
breeches, and high boots. Nothing was lacking of 
perfect accuracy in the matter of costume. 

“ Pardieu / one would say it was the Emperor Na- 
poleon in person ! ” muttered Maubreuilin amazement, 
and he added, beneath his breath : “ Love must have 
driven the gallant Austrian mad. What the devil is 
the meaning of this masquerading ? ” 

“ You haven’t seen all yet,” said Neipperg, with a 
smile pervaded with an expression of intense hatred ; 
“ look, Monsieur de Maubreuil. Come ! Napoleon, 
make your reverence to monsieur ! ” he ordered in the 
tone of an exhibitor of wild beasts. 

The apparition removed its hat and executed two or 
three profound stage salutations. When he raised his 
head, and Maubreuil had a fair view of his features 
with the light upon them, he uttered an exclamation 
of utter stupefaction. 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 


53 


“ Mon Dieu ! what an incredible resemblance ! ” he 
muttered. “ Upon my soul, if I did not know that 
this is mere comedy, and that you are simply afford- 
ing me a glimpse of a most extraordinary and unex- 
pected freak of nature, monsieur le comte, I would 
swear that the Emperor Napoleon was here with us 
at the Royal Oak in his own person.” 

“ Is it not true that this vile creature, whom I 
picked up in the slums of London, consorting with the 
worst thieves and the prostitutes of Whitechapel, re- 
sembles your glorious emperor so closely as to be mis- 
taken for him? Come forward a little, knave,” said 
Neipperg, raising his voice ; “ as nature has made you 
the living image of the crowned villian whom I have 
not yet treated as he deserves, come here, and let him 
undergo in effigy, in your vile person, the beginning of 
the retribution which is in store for him. Come ! turn 
around, Napoleon ! ” 

Thereupon Neipperg, beside himself with excite- 
ment and passion, in a fit of frenzy, which this counter- 
feit presentment of his rival aroused whenever his eye 
fell upon him, rushed upon the unfortunate double, 
who comically bent his back to receive the attack. The 
count administered a violent kick upon his posterior, 
repeating with brutal vindictiveness : 

* ( There, take that, Napoleon ; there’s your pay ! 
Vile Napoleon ! Cowardly Napoleon ! Take that ! 
Take that ! That’s your just desert ! ” 

Then he fell back, exhausted and relieved, into his 
chair. 


54 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 


Maubreuil reflected deeply, as he witnessed this 
scene, which indicated something like temporary aber- 
ration of intellect, produced by hatred and wrath. 

A strange idea, an ill-defined but attractive scheme, 
began to take shape in his inventive mind. 

He concealed under a smile of approbation the com- 
bination, unquestionably villainous in design, which 
was developing in his brain. 

Meanwhile the man who had served to deceive the 
jealous animosity of Marie-Louise’s lover, stood 
erect once more. Like an actor who joins his fellows 
in familiar conversation and drinking after his last 
lines are spoken, laying aside the king’s sceptre or the 
traitor’s dagger, he walked to the table, unceremoni- 
ously took a goblet, poured out a bumper of whiskey, 
swallowed it, and put the glass down again, saying to 
Neipperg as he did so : 

“ Your honor struck a little hard to-day. Your 
honor was in fine form. It was monsieur’s presence, 
no doubt, that had such an effect on you. With your 
honor’s permission I’ll take a second glass of whiskey 
— and then I should be very thankful if your honor 
would pay me my guinea for to-morrow in advance ; 
yesterday’s was in my waistcoat pocket, and there 
must have been a hole in it so that it fell out in the 
road. To-day’s guinea I took pains to put in my 
breeches pocket, and that must have had a hole in it 
too, the cursed thing, and that guinea joined the other 
on the road.” 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 


55 


Neipperg made a vague sort of gesture with his 
outstretched arm. He hardly listened to what the 
despicable creature said, upon whom he vented his 
anger and hate. His explosion of fury at an end, he 
became sombre once more, and a little ashamed of this 
eccentric way of wreaking vengeance by proxy. 

“ This Comte de Maubreuil,” he said to himself, 
“ will have a strange opinion of me. Bah ! I felt that 
I must have a witness of this little execution in effigy. 
If the thing gets noised abroad they’ll laugh at me a 
little in Paris and London, but they’ll laugh even 
more at Napoleon ! ” 

This prospect consoled Neipperg, and banished all 
feeling of regret for the exploit he had performed in 
Maubreuil’s presence. 

The adventurer, however, who had not once re- 
moved his eyes from the marvellous double of the 
emperor, suddenly remarked, after Neipperg had given 
the fellow the guinea he begged for, and dismissed 
him : 

“ I am going to make you a proposition, Monsieur 
de Neipperg.” 

“ What is it?” he asked, as if awaking from a 
dream. 

“You must let me have Napoleon — your Napo- 
leon, I mean, that rascal that was here a moment 
since ! ” 

“What do you want him for? Would you also 
like to administer a little chastisement to him now and 


56 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 


then to relieve your mind and shorten the time of 
waiting for the real punishment ? ” 

“ I have a much better use for him than that.” 

“ What is it, pray ? ” 

“ Permit me to ask you to give me credit for a few 
weeks. If you loan me your Napoleon — in consider- 
ation of my reimbursing you in part for what his livery 
and board have cost you — I give you my word as a 
gentleman that your vengeance will come all the more 
swiftly, and be the more complete.” 

“ What is your plan, I pray to know ? ” 

“ I cannot explain it to you to-day, but you, in com- 
mon with the rest of the world, will soon learn the 
result of the enterprise I propose to attempt with the 
assistance of that admirable knave. Do you consent, 
monsieur le comte ? ” 

“ Take him,” said Neipperg, “ if he can assist in 
any way to avenge us upon the Corsican bandit ; in- 
deed, I ought in conscience to part with the ruffian, 
whom nature has made Napoleon’s twin-brother. I 
met him in an infamous den in Whitehall, where I 
was trying to recruit a few unscrupulous rascals to 
infest the highroads in France which couriers usually 
take.” 

“ Ah, yes ! gentry who hold up mail-coaches and 
empty the sacks containing despatches, without neg- 
lecting the shipments of cash to the army, — precious 
fellows they are, although they too often forget to 
transmit to the royalist committees the money seized 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 5< 

with the despatches. And this worthy was one of 
them ? ” 

“ Oh, no ! simply an out-at-elbows tenth-rate actor, 
who haunted the low drinking-places, and amused the 
habitues of those dens for a shilling or two. In the 
course of his contortions and singing he undertook to 
mimic the pose and bearing of Napoleon. Although 
his face was completely blackened with smoke, I was 
at once struck with his extraordinary, marvellous re- 
semblance to my enemy, and the whimsical idea of 
taking him into my service came to my mind. I 
bought him an undress uniform, which reminded me 
of that ordinarily worn by the man whose features 
were reproduced in his face, and diverted myself by 
keeping him with me during my stay in England. I 
am now upon the eve of leaving England once more, 
and I cannot afford to have such a compromising por- 
trait in my service on the journey I am about to take, 
and particularly in the neighborhood to which I am 
going. So I very gladly, my dear count, turn over to 
you the discreditable Samuel Barker; and may he 
afford you as many moments of satisfaction as he has 
afforded me ! But it is late, and our beds are ready 
for us.” 

Neipperg gave his hand to Maubreuil as he arose to 
leave the room. 

“ Thanks for your gift, count,” said the latter. 
“Oh, you will soon have news of Samuel Barker! 
That talented actor, under my management, is des- 


58 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 


tined to achieve a great dramatic success, I feel very 
sure.” 

“ What part do you propose to have him play, some 
comic character ? ” 

“ No ; a tragic part.” 

“ The devil ! — you make me very curious ! And 
what about Napoleon ? — not this fellow, but the other, 
the real villain ? ” 

“ Oh, I don’t forget him ! Others beside myself are 
thinking of him also. There are at this moment in 
Paris, in the prisons, in the provinces, in various regi- 
ments,” said Maubreuil gravely, “ many gallant, high- 
spirited young men, and some few persistent conspira- 
tors, who are likewise awaiting the deliverance of 
France. They have in mind audacious but impracti- 
cable schemes, the success of which seems most im- 
probable.” 

“ You don’t believe in the success of these military 
conspiracies, then ? ” 

“ Not in the least,” replied Maubreuil, coldly. “ I 
should build much greater hope upon this war that you 
anticipate. Russia is a formidable opponent, — an un- 
known quantity as regards her real strength, her re- 
sources and means of defence. You have some chance, 
perhaps, in that direction.” 

“It is the main reliance of the Comte de Provence, 
if I mistake not.” 

“ Our prince also relies on somethihg different from 
that.” 


NAPOLEON AT THE ROYAL OAK. 59 

Did lie confide his hope to you ? ” 

“ I guessed it.” 

“ Of what nature is it ? ” 

“ It is impossible for me to give you so much as the 
shadow of an idea. Know, however, that in carrying 
it out — I haven’t the whole plan iailly worked out in 
my head yet — your Samuel Barker will have a most 
important part to play, and he will play it conscien- 
tiously, I am sure, especially as he won’t know the first 
word? Good-night, Monsieur de Neipperg: thanks 
for the weapon you have placed in my hands in the 
person of the unprepossessing Samuel Barker.” 

“ A wehpon, do you say ? ” 

“ Oh ! perhaps I should say a part of a weapon. 
Something like the sheath that conceals the dagger 
Once more thanks, and good-night , my lord ! ” 

“ Upon my word, this Comte de Maubreuil is mad- 
der than I am ! A perfect gentleman, too, and with a 
cordial hatred for Napoleon,” muttered Neipperg, as 
he watched the receding form of the adventurer, pre- 
ceded by the worthy Billy Chestnut, moderately drunk, 
carrying a candlestick with a wavering movement, as 
if the floor of the corridor were the deck of a ship. 

What the devil does he mean to do with my false 
Napoleon ? ” added Neipperg, as he sought his own 


room. 


MAM AN QUIOU. 


The Kin<r of Rome was born amid the acclamations 
of the army and the good wishes of the people, to 
which imprecations and threats of death in the ranks 
of the royalists and agents of England replied in hol- 
low tones. 

Some republicans of the stamp of Malet cursed the 
advent of the child, who would strengthen the founda- 
tions of the imperial edifice. 

But the vast majority of the people felt a thrill of 
joy and confidence when they saw Napoleon, with 
radiant face, holding in his arms, like a new symbol of 
glory and of hope for the future, the son whose name 
to him was Napoleon the Desired. His paternal felic- 
ity did not turn Napoleon’s head to the point of mak- 
ing him neglect the education of his heir, — the special 
education which was devised to prepare him from his 
tender years for the role of emperor, which he would 
some day be called upon to assume, when his father 
should be no longer on earth, and when it would be 
his task to hold together twenty allied nations assem- 
bled beneath the eagles of France, to administer the 


MAMAN QUIOU. 


61 


government of Europe from the mouths of the Scheldt 
to the farthest confines of the steppes of Dalmatia, 
and to maintain, with lasting peace, the conquests and 
glory of the modern Charlemagne. 

O superb dreams ! O illusory splendors of a deceit- 
ful mirage discerned from beside that cradle, wherein, 
smothered in laces, lay sleeping he who was supposed 
to be the destined heir of half the globe ! 

A governess was selected for the young prince. 
She was a woman of rare merit, Madame de Montes- 
quiou — Maman Quiou , the little king called her in 
his childish lisp. 

Madame de Montesquiou had not the satisfaction of 
being agreeable to Marie-Louise. The empress re- 
served all her favors for Madame de Montebello, whose 
complaisance was so useful to her at the time of the 
Neipperg adventure ; and Lannes’ widow was jealous 
of the governess. 

Kind-hearted, attentive and devoted, Madame de 
Montesquiou took Marie-Louise's place with Napo- 
leon’s son, for the empress never had more than a very 
lukewarm affection for her child. She saw him barely 
ten minutes each day, and even then she always found 
a way to frighten him and make him cry, when she 
came to his nursery to kiss him, after returning from 
her ride, with a heavy plume of ostrich feathers wav- 
ing over her head. 

Maman Quiou was the King of Rome’s real mother. 

She did her utmost to curb the self-willed, irritable 


62 


MAM AN QUIOU. 


disposition of her charge, who inherited his father’s 
salient characteristics. Strict orders were given that 
the child should never go out unless attended by his 
governess. 

One morning the fair-haired child ran to the em- 
peror’s study all by himself, and found the door locked. 

“ Open the door ! I want to see papa ! ” he said 
imperatively in his piping voice to the usher, who re- 
plied : 

“ Sire, I cannot open the door for your Majesty.” 

“ Why not ? . I’m the little king ! ” 

“ But your Majesty is all alone, and I cannot open 
the door.” 

The little fellow said nothing. His eyes filled with 
tears, and he waited silently for Madame de.Montes- 
quiou, who was coming behind at a slower pace. 
When the governess arrived he seized her hand and 
said to the usher : 

“ Now, open the door ! the little king orders you to 
do it ! ” 

Thereupon the usher, bowing low, threw the door 
wide open, and announced : 

“ His Majesty, the King of Home ! ” 

He entered the imperial cabinet in a high state of 
excitement, and ran to his father’s arms. 

The council -had just finished its sitting. All the 
ministers were present. 

Napoleon, although deeply moved by his son’s en- 
trance, restrained his feelings and said with a severe 
expression : 


MAM AN QUIOU. 63 

“ You have not saluted, sire ! Come ! salute these 
gentlemen ! The French would never have you for 
their emperor if you should lack courtesy ! ” 

The child blushed, halted, and gracefully blew a 
kiss to the ministers, with his little hand. 

The emperor, his apparent sternness replaced by a 
smile, took the little king in his arms and said to the 
ministers : 

“I hope, messieurs, that it will not be said that I 
neglect my son’s education. He knows very well how 
to be civil in his childish, innocent way.” 

The King of Rome thereupon explained his abrupt 
advent. 

He was walking in the Tuileries garden with his 
governess while the council was in session, when a 
woman dressed in mourning, and accompanied by a boy 
of about his own age, walked hastily up to him in 
spite of the guards, and bade her child hand him a 
petition, which the little king took. 

“ Give that to the emperor,” she said : “ it is from 
the widow of one of his soldiers.” 

The prince’s sensitive nature was deeply moved by 
the sight of this mother and child in sombre garb, and 
he was in a great hurry to hand the petition to his 
father. 

“ Look, papa,” he said gravely, having in due form 
executed his salute to the ministers, “ this is w r hat a 
little boy in the garden gave me for you. He is 
dressed in black. His papa was killed in the war and 


64 


MAMAN QUIOU. 


his mamma wants a pension — I promised him he 
should have it.” 

“ Oho ! my man, you are giving pensions already, are 
you ? The deuce ! You are beginning early ! How- 
ever, it’s granted. Now are you satisfied ? ” 

And Napoleon pressed his son to his heart in a long 
and passionate embrace. 

At the time at which we take up the thread of our 
tale, the King of Rome was still too young to solicit 
and obtain pensions for his proteges. He was only 
a pretty, rosy-cheeked baby, displaying his curly- 
haired royalty in a little chaise drawn by lambs, 
cleverly trained by Franconi, to the intense delight of 
the habitues of the Tuileries. 

When his ride was at an end, the governess waited 
for a long while under the windows of the imperial 
cabinet, knowing that the emperor whenever he had a 
moment’s leisure would signal to her to bring his son 
to him, when he would kiss him passionately, and keep 
him by his side for a few moments. 

Napoleon, dictating to his secretary, Meneval, was 
walking back and forth as usual from the fireplace to 
the window. He spied the governess, and interrupted 
his dictating to motion to her to come up. Having 
embraced his son affectionately, the emperor dismissed 
him and the governess with a wave of his hand, and 
turned to Meneval to resume his interrupted employ- 
ment. 

The governess, although she perfectly understood 


MAMAN QUIOU. 


65 


the emperor’s meaning, did not stir. Having entrusted 
the King of Rome to one of the female attendants, whom 
she knew to be outside the door of the cabinet, she 
stood silent and motionless and erect, somewhat as if 
she were on sentry go. 

Napoleon, wondering at her action, frowned at first, 
then said sharply : 

“ Well, Maman Quiou, what is going on ? Isn’t 
your pupil behaving himself? No? it isn’t that? Have 
you anything to ask me ? Well, speak ! I am much 
hurried, and I cannot waste my time guessing what is 
going on in a woman’s brain.” 

The governess, in some confusion, first of all made 
a low reverence, then said, not without hesitation : 

“ Sire, I received a visit from Madame la Duchesse 
de Dantzig this morning, and she begged me to so- 
licit a great favor at your Majesty’s hands.” 

“ Marecliale Lefebvre desires a favor at my hands ! 
Parbleu ! isn’t she a sufficiently exalted personage to 
ask it herself ? Does she need an ambassadress, pray, 
or is she afraid ? In that case she must have forfeited 
her name of Sans-Gene. Oho ! is there really some- 
thing that the hussy is afraid of ? That amazes me. 
Tell me,” he added, “ is it something very serious ? ” 

“ No, sire, but the marechale was afraid of annoying 
your Majesty ; and then she said that as she had already 
asked one very great favor at your Majesty’s hands, 
she feared to be thought unreasonable.” 

“ Indeed ? The Duchesse de Dantzig is an excellent 


66 


MAM AN QUIOU. 


woman of whom I am very fond. I do not in the 
least share, with regard to her, the scornful sentiments 
of some of the courtiers, who make sport of her man- 
ners, which are somewhat too frank and familiar, I con- 
fess. Dame ! she’s a noble-hearted woman of the people 
whom I knew long ago in my young days, and who 
did her duty bravely on many battle-fields. She mur- 
ders the French language, to be sure, and her pictu- 
resque expressions savor more of the faubourg and the 
barracks than of Saint-Germain and the Academic. 
She does not sit in the latest style in a salon, and her 
legs get tangled up in her court train — I know that 
as everybody else does. But no matter ! I esteem the 
good marechale highly, and I propose that everybody, 
at my court as elsewhere, shall show her the greatest 
consideration and respect. It would be a fine thijag,” 
continued the emperor, apparently addressing Meneval, 
but really speaking to himself, “ for any one to assume 
to be more particular than myself in the matter of 
manners, or more exacting than I choose to be with 
regard to the demeanor of the wives of my most faith- 
ful servants. Lefebvre, as I told him long ago, was 
wrong perhaps to marry when he was a sergeant, but 
I have forgiven him. I promised good Sans-Gene, too, 
to forget that she ever was a laundress. Now, Maman 
Quiou, tell me your errand at once. What does 
Madame de Dantzig desire ? ” 

“ Sire, her adopted son, Henriot, major of hussars, 
is to be married.” 


MAMAN QUIOU. 


67 


“ The gallant officer who took Stettin with a squad 
of cavalry ? Ah ! I haven’t forgotten him. Whom is 
he to marry ? ” 

“ The daughter of an officer in the Army of the Re- 
public, under whom Marechal Lefebvre, theta. a ser- 
geant, served.” 

“ The officer’s name ? ” 

“ Beaurepaire.” 

“ He was one of my friends ! ” exclaimed the em- 
peror. “ He defended Verdun most heroically, and 
killed himself, so ’twas said, rather than surrender the 
city of which he was in command. If he had lived I 
would have made him a count and general. Faith ! I 
am much pleased with this marriage. It is the begin- 
ning of a family founded upon glorious souvenirs. 
When is it to be ? ” 

“ Day after to-morrow, sire. I am to act as mother 
to Alice de Beaurepaire, wdio is an orphan, and the 
duchess ventured to hope that your Majesty would 
sign the contract.” 

“ That I will ! ” said the emperor, good-humor- 
edly. “Assure Marechale Lefebvre that I will be 
present at the ceremony. But I fancy that she is 
not far away — nor the bride that is to be, either? 
Both of them are probably awaiting my reply near at 
hand.” 

“Your Majesty has guessed aright.” 

“ The Duchesse de Dantzig is not only an honest, 
energetic woman, worthy of the gallant soldier whose 


68 


MAMAN QUIOTJ. 


troubles and whose glory she has shared, but an intel- 
ligent woman, too, who understands a hint, and knows 
how she ought to act under embarrassing circumstances. 
Faith ! no, she’s no fool, — indeed, I have told her so,” 
said the emperor, recalling her adroit intervention 
during that night at Compiegne, which was so near 
ending tragically, when Neipperg was surprised by 
him and turned over to the platoon of soldiers for exe- 
cution. “ Marechale Lefebvre,” he added with a 
smile, “ was afraid that she was out of her element at 
my court ; she took too literally perhaps certain re- 
marks I made to her husband on the subject of her 
manners and her bearing, and voluntarily went into 
retirement at the chateau of Combault, rather than 
be exposed to the mockery of certain persons at court, 
and the disdainful airs of their arrogant wives, who 
are far from being as true as she is. I am very grate- 
ful to her for deferring to a wish which I had not 
even expressed, and I desire to lose no opportunity to 
show my gratification. Go, Montesquiou, and bring 
the Duchesse de Dantzig and brave Major Henriot’s 
fiancee. I will remember my promise to sign the con- 
tract and keep to it. Now, Meneval, let us finish the 
note to M. de Lauriston ; we must put an end to the 
shuffling and artifice of my dear cousin, the Emperor 
Alexander ! ” 

Thereupon Napoleon, who had raised his voice, and 
shown symptoms of irritation at the last words, went 
on dictating his despatch to his ambassador at the 


MAMAN QUIOU. 


69 


czar’s court, while Montesquiou ran to fetch the 
Duchesse de Dantzig and Alice de Beaurepaire. 

“ Ah ! there you are, Madame Sans-Gene ! ” said 
the emperor in a jovial tone, which he could assume 
upon occasion, going forward to meet the marechale , 
who was somewhat disturbed, notwithstanding Madame 
de Montesquiou’s assurances as to the reception in 
store for her. “Well! you propose to stand on your 
dignity with me, eh ? ” 

“No, sire,” replied Catherine, looking the emperor 
full in the face, “ you well know that Lefebvre and I 
would be chopped into mincemeat for you. But 
country air was recommended for our health, you see. 
I’m like a fish out of water in your salons. At Com- 
bault I’m in my element ; there are peasants who are 
fond of us, and old soldiers who admire my Lefebvre 
as a man who has been everywhere under fire, at your 
side ; and then I live among the cows and sheep and 
fields and trees, which don’t come up to the beautiful 
firs of my dear Alsace, but we prefer them to your 
antechambers and your gilded collidors ! ” 

“ Corridors ! ” whispered Madame de Montesquiou. 

“Very good! your couloirs ,” rejoined Catherine. 
“ I had enough of standing on my feet waiting at the 
door of your salon — that didn’t prevent my being 
fond of you, sire, near or far ; you are our emperor, 
and never fear, when you give him the signal, Lefeb- 
vre won’t be long about greasing his boots and join- 
ing you. But when there’s no fighting going on, you 


70 


MAM AN QUIOU. 


don’t need him, do you ? What would you do with 
an old grumbler like him here in Paris ? You can let 
me keep him, can’t you? He’s planting cabbages for 
me just at present. But if you should say ; ‘ Here, 
Lefebvre, we’re going to shake things up a little on 
the Vistula or the Danube, to the roaring of ’ — but 
your Majesty understands what I mean ■ — it wouldn’t 
take him long then to make his bow to me, forget his 
gardening, and answer 4 Here ! ’ when you shout, 
‘ Forward ! ’ ” 

“ Yes,” said the emperor, still smiling, “ keep him, 
take care of him, love him and coddle him ! make the 
most of the present quiet time, my dear duchess ! 
Perhaps I may need to take your husband from you 
once more,” he added, in a more serious tone. 

“ Is there going to be war, sire ? ” queried Catherine, 
eagerly. 

' “ I cannot say, nor can any one,” was the emperor’s 

reply. “ I wish for peace — will Europe agree with 
me? England is forever intriguing and the czar is 
ill-advised. Say nothing, madame la duchesse, until 
further orders. It’s useless to disturb your husband. 
The letter Meneval is writing,” he said with a glance 
at his secretary, “contains a question. We shall see 
what answer will be made to it. There is peace or 
war in that despatch.” 

u Is it so ? ” murmured Catherine, and her face be- 
came clouded. She glanced at Meneval, leaning over 
his little table and copying the letter dictated in an 


MAM AN QUIOC. 


71 


incisive tone by Napoleon. She could not understand 
that a bit of paper covered with fly tracks could con- 
tain so momentous a matter. She was almost impelled 
to rush up to Meneval and say : “ Look here, my lad ; 
I’ll not have you writing foolish things and getting us 
into trouble with the Emperor of Russia ! ” 

Napoleon, meanwhile, was gazing attentively at 
Alice de Beaurepaire, a timid, frightened dove, who 
lowered her eyes beneath the eagle’s piercing glance. 

“ So it is this charming young woman,” he said 
with some hesitation, “ who is to marry Major Hen- 
riot? Upon my word the major is a lucky dog ! ” 
Thereupon he walked up to the girl with his usual 
abruptness of decision and action, took her face be- 
tween his hands, put his burning lips to her blushing 
brow, and bestowed a kiss upon it. 

“ That fatherly kiss will bring you luck, mademoi- 
selle,” he said. “ You belong to an old family, I be- 
lieve. Lovely, sweet and refined as you are, you will 
make a charming wife. You must come to court: I 
will see that you are invited to the empress’s recep- 
tions. I shall see you again day after to-morrow, 
mademoiselle, at the signing of your contract! 
Madame la duchesse, and you, Maman Quiou, with- 
draw. Meneval has not finished his letter, and the 
courier, honest Moustache, is growing weary of wait- 
ing, all-booted and spurred, in the court-yard.” 

The two women bowed ceremoniously, and it seemed 
to Alice, who saluted less majestically, that the em- 


72 


MAM AN QUIOU. 


peror continued to smile upon her, and never took his 
eyes from her face. 

Madame de Montesquiou, having accompanied 
Marechale Lefebvre and Alice as far as the foot of 
the staircase overlooking the terrace of the Tuileries 
above the quay, was on the point of returning to her 
apartments. Her audience of the emperor had excited 
her somewhat. Napoleon had a disturbing effect upon 
all those who approached him. She determined, 
therefore, to walk once or twice around the garden be- 
fore going in. 

As she bade farewell to Catherine Lefebvre, whose 
carriage was waiting for her, it seemed to her that a 
tall, stately man, wearing a long surtout, with his hat 
pulled over his eyes, walked away from the duchess’s 
footman, with whom he seemed to have been engaged 
in conversation. What could so well dressed a man 
want in such company? He seemed to have gone 
into ambush not far from the private door used by the 
emperor when he desired to go forth privately and 
incognito. Had he evil designs in his head? For a 
moment the governess thought of calling the sentinel’s 
attention to this suspicious stranger. 

Suddenly she thought that he bestowed a glance of 
intelligence upon her. She started, did not dare go for- 
ward, and tried to make out his features at a distance. 

He walked quickly to where she stood, raised the 
brim of his hat slightly, and said in a tone in which 
there was a suspicion of irony : 










































% 



“ YOU DO NOT RECOGNIZE ME, DEAR MADAME. 




MAM AN QUIOU. 


73 


“ You do not recognize me, dear madame ? does dis- 
grace change one’s features so much ? ” 

“ M. de Maubreuil ! ” cried the duchess, evidently 
greatly surprised at the meeting. 

She had known the adventurer long before. Al- 
though her age and her character rendered her entirely 
inaccessible to his seductions, Maubreuil had paid 
assiduous court to her, as a pastime, or perhaps from 
cupidity, as she was in those days in a fair way to in- 
herit from an uncle descended from the D’Artagnans, 
and an ultra-royalist, a large property, which was 
eventually bestowed elsewhere on account of her adhe- 
sion to the empire. Having rejected the homage of 
her unscrupulous adorer, she had, nevertheless, retained 
a kindly feeling for him. What woman is not flattered 
by being courted, even though she have no pretensions 
to be adored, and no taste for love-making ? 

So it was that she did not receive Maubreuil with 
disfavor, but inquired with interest concerning his 
wanderings since he fell into disgrace as a result of 
his intrigues at the court of the King of Westphalia. 
The adventurer delivered himself of a narrative more 
or less accurate, touching his sojourn in foreign lands, 
carefully refraining from manifesting his hatred for 
Napoleon. He had no questions to ask concerning 
any one save the Duchesse de Dantzig, whose livery 
he recognized, aojd whom he expressed an earnest de- 
sire to see in private ; he said that a very dear friend 
of the duchess, with whom he had talked in England, 


74 


MAMAN QUIOU. 


had entrusted him with a commission for her, and that 
he was anxious to acquit himself of it as soon as pos- 
sible. 

Madame de Montesquiou, entirely satisfied as to the 
intentions of the man whom she had taken at first 
sight for a conspirator on guard, passed at once from 
anxious reserve to the fullest confidence. She offered 
to present her former adorer to Madame de Dantzig. 
Unfortunately she was leaving Paris for her estate at 
Combault. 

Maubreuil thanked her, and replied that he would 
await her return to Paris. 

“ But Marechale Lefebvre may remain a long while 
in the country,” said Madame de Montesquiou, with a 
growing inclination to oblige Maubreuil. “ Why 
should not you go to Combault? ” she added. “ There 
is to be a wedding there. Presentations are easily 
managed on an occasion of that sort. Besides, I shall 
be there.” 

“ I hardly need to go into the country to see her,” 
said Maubreuil, declining with a smile the offer, which 
had no attraction for him. 

His only purpose in desiring to approach Marechale 
Lefebvre was to use the name and friendship oi 
Neipperg in such a way as to be put in communica- 
tion with Marie-Louise. It occurred to him that 
Madame de Montesquiou would be sufficient. The 
governess of the imperial child, who was at hand and 
inclined to oblige him, might procure him an interview 


MAMAN QUIOU. 


75 


with the empress as readily as the marechale could do. 
Once in her presence he would do his utmost to win 
her confidence, he would represent himself as the 
friend and ambassador of the Comte de Neipperg, 
would ta^k of his enduring love, and if Marie-Louise 
was not angry, if he was not shown the door at the 
first hint, if she seemed to listen with interest, why, 
the rest was his business. He knew what measures to 
take when he was within the walls of the citadel. 
Henri IY was done away with, with the assistance, 
active or passive, of Marie de Medicis. At the mo- 
ment he could not see that there was any need for him 
to go twenty leagues from Paris in search of Mare- 
chale Lefebvre; Madame de Montesquiou would 
usher him to the empress’s apartments, and from there 
to Napoleon’s breast there was but one door to pass 
through, one curtain to raise. 

Therefore his refusal to go to Combault was ac- 
companied by a most gracious and well -satisfied 
smile. 

“You are wrong,” said Madame de Montesquiou, 
more desirous, perhaps, than she cared to confess to 
be thrown in Maubreuil’s company once more, “ Le- 
febvre and the marechale are excellent people, who 
will welcome you with all their hearts : and then it 
will be a lovely affair, for the emperor has promised to 
be present.” 

Despite his self-control, Maubreuil could not re- 
strain an exclamation of surprise. 


76 


MAMAN QUIOU. 


“What! Napoleon will be present? He will put 
himself out to that extent ? He at Combault ? ” 

“ He has promised.” 

“ What interest can he possibly have in the affair to 
induce him to undergo the fatiguing journey, such a 
selfish creature as he is, and so utterly indifferent to 
the joys and sorrows of the nation and of individ- 
uals ! ” 

“Oh! don’t speak ill of the emperor!”, cried 
Madame de Montesquiou, hastily, with a dismayed 
glance at the sentinel, who was gazing listlessly and 
vaguely at his sentry-box. 

Maubreuil shrugged his shoulders. 

“ I am astonished, that is all,” he said, recovering 
his self-possession, “ that Napoleon should leave his 
palace, his duties, even his pleasures, and go off to an 
obscure village, simply for the purpose of signing the 
marriage-contract of a mere colonel with an orphan 
without rank or ancestors to add to his newly- 
formed court the lustre of the old regime, which he 
so craves.” 

“ Mademoiselle Alice de Beaurepaire is the daugh- 
ter of the heroic defender of Verdun.” 

“Pshaw! petty nobility — the very pettiest. Is 
she pretty ? ” 

“ Lovely ! His Majesty, who was talking with her 
a moment since, didn’t take his eyes from her face. 
I am far from intending to slander his Majesty, but it 
did seem to me that the fiancee's lovely eyes counted 


MAM AN QUIOU. 


77 


for something, for much indeed, in the emperor’s de 
cision.” 

Maubreuil’s mind worked quickly. In his case 
swift decision was followed by equally swift action. 

“ I will go to this wedding,” he said abruptly : “ I 
rely upon you, my excellent friend, to facilitate my 
introduction to the hostess.” 

“ I am very glad to have persuaded you,” said 
Madame de Montesquiou, good-naturedly : “ a festal 
occasion, you know, and sovereigns are graciously in- 
clined at such times : perhaps you will be restored to 
favor by the emperor — your crime wasn’t such a ter- 
rible one after all, was it ? ” 

“ Napoleon does not know what I did, or what I 
might have been blamed for doing at the court of 
Westphalia.” 

“ Then all’s for the best ; go at once to Combault, 
and if you’re not ashamed to give your arm to an old 
dowager like myself, I will show you everything that’s 
to be seen on the estate.” 

“ I will go, I promise you, and we will take senti- 
mental walks together — as in the old days ! ” 

“ Hush, you are making sport of me ! ” said Madame 
de Montesquiou with a laugh. “ At Combault, then ! 
I rely upon you. Adieu ! I must go and find my 
little king.” 

And Maman Quiou, rejuvenated by the memory of 
the circumspect flirtation of long ago, and delighted 
by her meeting with Maubreuil for whom she had re- 


78 


MAMAN QUIOU. 


tained a quasi-maternal affection — rascals have been 
adored by virtuous women from time immemorial — 
tripped up the broad staircase of the Tuileries, as joy- 
ous and light of foot as at thirty years. 

Maubreuil, whose plans were materially modified by 
the projected visit to Combault, walked away, think- 
ing: 

“ Bonaparte probably has his eye on this girl. 
Dubois, Corvisart, all the doctors, as a result of Marie- 
Louise’s painful experience, enjoined moderation upon 
him : he is still in love with his wife, no doubt, but 
she, who has little love for him, makes the utmost of 
the injunction. As he hardly dares to introduce a 
new reader at court, as he fears to engage in a liaison 
with one of the ladies-in-waiting, who may make trou- 
ble for him, and as he does not choose, lest some 
notice of the fact may slip into the gazettes which are 
read at Vienna, to order Constant to prowl around the 
theatres and bring to the little entresol in the Tuileries 
the superb Georges, the lovely Bourgoing, the buxom 
Grassini, or some other queen of the stage, Bonaparte 
will snatch eagerly at this tempting piece of flesh. He 
will not be checked by the fact that she is but newly 
married ; on the contrary, that will be an added charm. 
The place, too, is propitious ; at a chateau in the 
country, amid the abandon of joyous wedding festivi- 
ties, a sovereign is less closely watched, and has a 
freer rein.” 

Maubreuil’s face lighted up with the reflection of an 
evil thought, and he continued : 


MAMAN QUIOU. 


79 


“ On that vast estate, Bonaparte, running about at 
night in search of pleasure, may find death instead. 
Oh, yes ! I’ll go to Combault and take Samuel Barker 
with me. In his character of double he may be of 
use to me ! ” 


V. 


henriot’s marriage. 

The marriage contract of Henriot and Alice was 
signed in the great salon of the chateau of Combault. 

The emperor was present in fulfilment of his prom- 
ise, accompanied by Duroc and other officers. 

Alice, ravishingly beautiful in her costume of pure 
white, was radiant with happiness. 

Henriot, also in the seventh heaven, did not take 
his eyes from his youthful bride except to bestow a 
grateful glance now and then upon Marechal Le- 
febvre and his good wife, whose open, kindly features 
abundantly bore witness to their lively satisfaction in 
seeing the two children who had grown up side by 
side and had been lulled to sleep by the roar of can- 
non, united at last. The bridegroom’s joy was largely 
increased by the commission as colonel of a regiment 
of chasseurs, which the emperor placed in his hands as 
a wedding-gift. 

After the ceremony Lefebvre and the marechale 
led the young couple and a few chosen guests into the 
park, which formed part of the fine estate presented 
to Lefebvre by the emperor, and where the festivities 


henriot’s marriage. 


81 


and rejoicings were beginning which were to last sev- 
eral days. 

A bountiful repast was provided, and bumper after 
bumper was drunk to the health of the emperor, the 
King of Rome, and the newly-married pair ; nor were 
Lefebvre and the marechale forgotten. 

At one of the tables spread in front of the chateau 
upon the lawn, at which peasants were sitting, a tall, 
thin man, a head taller than any of his neighbors, 
was holding forth, surrounded by a circle of staring 
eyes, listening ears and gaping mouths. 

He wore a long blue surtout with metal buttons, 
buttoned to the neck, and a military hat cocked over 
his ear. A bit of red ribbon was passed through his 
buttonhole. A long, stout cane was hanging by a 
leathern thong from one of the buttons of his surtout. 

At intervals he rose from the table, unhung his 
cane, and whirled it dizzily about over his head, shout- 
ing : “ Vive V Emperor ! Vive le Marechal / Vive la 
Duchesse ! ” 

This ebullition seemed to tranquillize his mind, and 
he would replace his cane on the button, resume his 
seat at the table and begin to eat and drink and 
harangue to the intense admiration of his whole court 
of rustics. 

One of the guests ventured to question him : 

“ So, M’sieu La Violette,” he said, gazing with 
frank amazement at the hero of the Grande Armee, 0 
“ you have spoke to the emperor ? ” 


82 


henriot’s marriage. 


“ As I tell you, countryman ! ” 

“ What did the emperor say to you, M’sieu La 
Violette ? ” 

“ In the first place, call me governor ! Don’t you 
know, my worthy fellow-citizens, peace-loving clowns 
of Queue-en-Brie, Tournan and other places, that I 
have the honor to be governor of the chateau of Com- 
bault, seignorial estate of Marechal Lefebvre, Due de 
Dantzig ? Don’t forget that. Now, you want to 
know what the emperor said to me ? ” 

“ Yes ! yes ! ” cried the peasants. 

“ Well, once — he found me in a place where it was 
hot, and yet it was in winter, November 15, 1796. I 
was fifteen years younger, my children ! ” 

“You were just as tall, M’sieu La Yiolette ! par- 
don ! m’sieu le gouverneur, weren’t you ? ” said the 
peasant who first questioned the former drum-major. 

“ A little taller, conscript ! At that time we were 
splashing round in the marshes near Verona, in Italy.” 
“ Is Italy very far ? ” 

“Yes — farther than that! The Austrians sur- 
rounded us and wanted to feed the leeches in the 
marshes upon us. Alvinzy, the Austrian, was simply 
waiting for a re-enforcement of 40,000 men to fall upon 
us. And what does the general do ? ” 

“ Napoleon ? eh, m’sieur le gouverneur ? ” 

La Violette looked askance at his questioner. 

“Yes, General Bonaparte, now our emperor; clown, 
you should know that, though there may be other 


henriot’s marriage. 


83 


generals and other emperors in the world, when one 
says, ‘ the general,’ it means Bonaparte, and when one 
says 1 the emperor ’ simply, it means Napoleon. There ! 
another glass of wine to wash down the lesson and 
listen to the balance of the story. The marshal’s 
health : ” 

Having swallowed a bumper, La Yiolette resumed : 

“ The general says to us : ‘ My boys, we haven’t 
the numbers on our side, so we must have the cunning ; 
all these marshes are crossed by causeways, over which 
a column of determined men can pass ; the enemy, 
although stronger than we, will lose the advantage of 
their numbers, through having to form in close order 
instead of spreading out. Let’s take possession of 
those vile roads ; you see that village yonder ; it is 
called Arcole and I propose to breakfast there ; for- 
ward, my boys ! ’ And off we went ! ” 

“ Arcole ? Isn’t that the place where there was a 
bridge ? ” inquired one of La Yiolette’s neighbors. 

“ And a famous one ! it was defended by forty 
pieces of cannon, to say nothing of the sharpshooters, 
the cavalry and the reserve. In short, when we 
arrived there, we were met by a devil of a fire ; the 
strongest began to waver ; the bridge was swept by a 
fierce storm of musket'balls and grape. Impossible to 
go forward! it was a fearful and wonderful thing, 
that empty bridge, surrounded by ditches, which no- 
body dared step upon. Augereau was in a quandary 
as to how he was going to get his troops out of the 


84 


henriot’s marriage. 


mess, when there was a great hurrahing at the head of 
the bridge. General Bonaparte had arrived. He at 
once made inquiries, took in at a glance the danger, 
the hesitation of the soldiers and the battle almost 

lost. Down he jumps from his horse, and cries : i A 
flag ! bring me a flag ! ’ They gave him the flag of the 
3 2d demi-brigade. He put the sacred hunting to his 
lips, then seized the staff and rushed upon the bridge, 
shouting ‘ En avant / 9 We followed him pell-mell, in 
a confused mass, drunk with excitement, frenzied, blind, 
mad — but on we went. We rushed out on the 
bridge enveloped in a hail-storm of bullets. The flag 
waving over Bonaparte’s head looked like the sail of a 
ship that has been torn from the yards by a storm. 
Lannes, Bon, Muiron rushed in front of the general to 
try and shield him with their bodies. Muiron, his 
aide-de-camp, fell, pierced by a ball intended for Bona- 
parte. Then I went forward — ” 

La Yiolette paused. He seemed to be searching his 
memory for a word which eluded him. Soon he 
resumed : 

“ Ah ! that’s it ! — Muiron was killed. Lannes 
threw himself to the right toward Bonaparte to ward 
off with his breast the fusilade on the left of the 
bridge. The general was not protected on that side. 
I was there with my drummer-boys, wild youngsters 
of eighteen, always in the front rank — sometimes even 
nearer the enemy than that — and faith ! to back the 
general up I bade them beat the charge with all their 








































LA YIOLETTE PAUSED, AND CAST HIS EVE OVER HIS AUDIENCE 

IN A LORDLY WAY. 


henriot’s marriage. 


85 


might. When I saw Muiron fall, I rushed up to the 
general and stood up straight — behind me he was out 
of danger : that’s the advantage of my height, you 
understand. It was then that the general spoke to 
me.” 

Like an artist who takes time to arrange the effects 
he desires to produce, La Yiolette paused and cast his 
eye over his audience in a lordly way. 

u Now then,” he continued, satisfied with the pre- 
vailing silence and rapt attention, “ the great man 
said to me like this, in the midst of the hurly-burly : 
£ Imbecile ! ’ yes, I think it was imbecile he said, but I 
couldn’t hear very well on account of the infernal 
uproar — ‘ Stoop ! do you want to be shot ? ’ 

“ To that I replied, with the respect due to a supe- 
rior officer : 

“ ‘ General, that’s what I’m here for ; if I am killed, 
they can beat the charge without me ; but if you are 
killed, who will beat the Austrians ? ’ ” 

“ Well said, and what did the general say to it?” 
said his former questioner. 

“ Nothing — he had no time. A furious artillery 
volley carried away part of the bridge and spilled us 
both into the marsh. Oh ! how we did splash around 
in the mud, children ! but never mind, I kept my little 
drummers beating the charge all the while, and the 
general kept his flag waving over his head. We ended 
by taking the whole force over that devilish bridge, 
and overturning Alvinzy into the marshes where he 


86 


henriot’s marriage. 


proposed to serve us up to the leeches for breakfast. 
That, my friends, was the first time I ever spoke to 
Napoleon. We talked together again at the battle of 
Jena — at Dantzig — at Friedland — and we’re not 
done yet, I hope we’re not done yet ! ” said La Violette, 
looking around to see if the peasants were inclined to 
echo his warlike sentiments. 

His last words were followed by a silence of some 
duration. At last a peasant named Jean Sauvage, 
Marechal Lefebvre’s farmer, a sturdy husbandman of 
some forty years, raising his glass in a friendly way, 
said to La Yiolette : 

“ Your health, governor ! I drink to a gallant man 
and a true Frenchman, and we peasants of La Brie claim 
to be devoted to our country, too. We have listened 
to your stirring tale, and you may be sure that our 
hearts beat faster when we remember the glorious 
fights in which you took a leading part. Bonaparte at 
the Bridge of Arcole was brave to the point of rash- 
ness. He led the army, although his place is not in 
the front rank in a battle, and he has other things to 
do than risk his life as a common soldier : he showed 
that he knew how, on occasion, to risk his skin and 
defy death. So we admire him as general, and love 
him as emperor. But we are beginning to think he has 
won enough glory of that sort, and that it’s time for 
him to rest on his laurels. That’s what we farmers 
of La Brie think, Monsieur le Gouverneur La Yiolette.” 

“ And you are right, my friends, to wish that peace 


henriot’s marriage. 


87 


may endure,” said a strong voice behind them ; “ I 
hope that nothing will happen to take you from your 
fields and your firesides again.” 

It was Lefebvre, who, with Alice on his arm, was 
escorting his guests across the fields, to which the 
bountifully laden tables and huge casks gave the ap- 
pearance of a kermesse in Flanders. 

La Yiolette rose when he recognized the marshal’s 
voice. He carried arms with his cane, and growled : 

“ So there’s to be no more fighting ! Are we get- 
ting too rusty ? ” 

“ What are you grumbling there in your moustache ?” 
said Lefebvre, “ France, old La Yiolette, has acquired 
enough glory to dispense with seeking other fields to 
conquer. We risk losing everything by tempting 
fortune too often. I think that the emperor, whose 
wishes are always gratified, who has felt the very 
great joy of becoming a father, and whose dynasty is 
henceforth out of reach of all accidents, will under- 
stand that it is time to give his people rest, tranquillity 
and the advantages of a peaceful life of hard work. 
That is the feeling of all his majesty’s comrades-in- 
arms. Let him consult his marshals and he will soon 
find that no one is anxious for war.” 

“ Parbleu ! ” growled La Yiolette, ill convinced, 
“ all the marshals are as fat as monks ; they have 
chateaux and farms and money, and they ask for 
leisure to enjoy it all. The word is to disarm, you 
see! Vive la paix! Vivent la joie and potatoes ! ” 


88 


HENRIOT’s MARRIAGE. 


And La Violette whirled his cane about with a veloc- 
ity in which there was some little wrath and sarcasm. 

“ Monsieur le marechal is right,” said Jean Sauvage, 
the peasant who had already spoken, “when he de- 
clares, a gallant soldier, too, and a hero, that the 
wisest course is to give France a breathing spell, and 
that it’s time to hang up the gun on the rack. If the 
country were consulted, it would be found to be even 
more anxious than the marshals for peace. May the 
birth of the emperor’s son ensure it ! ” 

At that moment Madame Lefebvre approached 
upon Henriot’s arm and gave her hand to Jean 
Sauvage. 

“ Well said, my boy ! You are a peasant and I am 
a daughter of the soil, too ; I know how hard it is for 
a farmer to see his fields trodden down by horses and 
ploughed up by the wheels of gun-carriages. I know, 
too, that when the war is over the sovereigns get to- 
gether and have great rejoicings among themselves, 
while everybody is weeping in the villages, and women 
in black kneeling in front of crosses which stand for 
trenches and graves in distant countries, Spain, or 
Moravia, or Poland. Yes, you are right, my friends, 
to wish for peace, but don’t forget that a nation that 
grows soft is very soon obliged to undergo the worst 
kind of a war, that which is forced upon it and which 
it goes into half-heartedly and without enthusiasm.” 

She paused a moment and then went on with in- 
creased animation : 


henriot’s marriage. 


89 


“ Europe at this moment is crossed in every direc- 
tion by threatening underground currents. A sudden 
explosion may occur at any moment. Napoleon is 
still dreaded by the kings of Europe, but he’s hated 
also. In their eyes he is the impudent soldier who 
has built up his throne not upon victory alone, but upon 
the French revolution ; he is the champion of equality 
which is a hateful thing to monarchs by right divine. 
There’s no place but France where it’s possible to see 
a peasant like Lefebvre marshal and duke, and a 
peasant girl like me, La Sans-Gene, as they used to 
call me — marechale and duchess! My friends, let’s 
be glad for the peace we now have, let us make the 
most of it, but don’t tremble when the day comes that 
you have to shoulder your musket again. You may 
all have to do it before long, perhaps, not to acquire 
more glory and make Napoleon’s name still greater, 
but to preserve your fields and save your country ! ” 

Jean Sauvage rose, solemnly removed his hat and 
said in a clear, strong voice : 

“ Madame la marechale, and all you who are here 
to witness the marriage of Colonel Henriot, the adopted 
son of our beloved master, who has led several of us 
to victory, we say with the utmost sincerity that we 
wish every possible good thing for the emperor and 
King of Rome, that we hope he will succeed in keeping 
France in her present rank among the nations and 
maintain the frontiers of the Republic — but we, 
humble citizens, toilers in the fields, who form the 


90 


henriot’s marriage. 


great body of the nation, also hope never to hear the 
roar of cannon again, except to commemorate some 
joyful event ; we long to have France cease to be one 
huge camp where nothing can be heard but the deaf- 
ening clash of weapons. Enough of the blood of our 
young men has been shed upon a hundred battle- 
fields. Isn’t it so, boys ? ” he added, turning to the 
peasants for support, and they all shouted : 

“ Yes ! yes ! it is so ! Jean Sauvage, you are right ! ” 

“ But if we want peace, we must show the emperor 
that we’re not bad citizens,” continued Sauvage, with 
more assurance. “ On the day when we are so un- 
fortunate that victory abandons us, and the enemy, 
seeking revenge, come as they came once before, to 
laugh at our useless courage in our very homes — on 
the day when our turn comes to know the humiliation 
of defeat and the horror of invasion — on that day, I 
swear here before you, monsieur le marechal, that we 
will rise in a body, leave our wives and children, our 
horses and our furrows, and every one of us will do 
his duty. We will astonish the invaders by showing 
them what the peasants of France can do when the 
pinch comes ! ” 

“ I will transmit your good wishes and your patri- 
otic words to the emperor, my friend,” said Lefebvre, 
with emotion ; “ but I hope it will never be necessary 
to remind you of them. We have our swords and our 
muskets to drive back the enemy if he should dare 
show himself hereabout ; keep your pitchforks to make 


henriot’s marriage. 


91 


your hay, and your flails to thresh the grain ! Au 
revoir , Jean Sauvage ! pleasure and good health to 
you all, my friends ! ” 

The marshal and his guests took their leave, amid 
the repeated acclamations of the peasants. 

Catherine Lefebvre, although deeply impressed by 
the demeanor and the words of Jean Sauvage, for she 
felt that he voiced the fears, the presentiments and the 
alarm of all Frenchmen, was anxious to dissipate the 
feeling of uneasiness which was noticeable among her 
guests. 

“ Come and take a turn in the galleries of the cha- 
teau!” said she, gayly. “We haven’t shown you 
everything, and like all landed gentry we have our 
gallery of ancestors ! Come, Henriot, give your arm 
to your sweetheart: I’m going arm-in-arm with Le- 
febvre, as in the old days.” 

“ As always, my dear Catherine,” rejoined Lefebvre, 
hastening to offer his arm to his wife. 

Leading the procession of guests as at a village 
wedding, they ascended the steps of the chateau. 

Having inspected vestibules, salons d'honneur , ball- 
rooms and State banqueting-rooms, the marechale led 
the procession to a gallery, upon the door of which 
was painted a sword with a plain hilt, an old-fashioned 
sword of a simple guard or sergeant, crossed by a mar- 
shal’s baton, with a ducal coronet and a vivandiere's 
cap above,— a singular crest. 

They entered the gallery, which was quite bare. A 


92 


henriot’s marriage. 


row of closed wardrobes was the only ornamentation 
of the walls. 

Catherine opened the first of the wardrobes. A 
calico dress with little faded bouquets was hanging 
there beside a short petticoat, surmounted by a pointed 
lace cap. 

“ My laundresses costume, the one I wore when I 
first knew Lefebvre,” said the marechale, simply. “ Ah ! 
that was the time when the Tuileries was taken by 
assault, and the tyrants driven out ! ” 

“ And when you made me save the life of a Knight 
of the Dagger,” added Lefebvre in an undertone. 

“ Hush ! ” said Catherine, pointing to Henriot, “ you 
know that we shouldn’t speak here, or at the palace, of 
him who is the same to us as a friend long since dead. 
Here,” she continued, raising her voice as she opened 
the second wardrobe, “ is my cantiniere' s uniform, 
which I wore at Verdun and Fleurus. Look where 
an Austrian bayonet tore it.” 

The guests gathered about her, and examined with 
respectful interest the costume which evoked the 
memory of so many bygone battles, of Catherine’s 
wound and her husband's glory. 

“This third wardrobe,” continued Catherine, con- 
tinuing the journey through her past life, “ contains 
my fine marechale’ s gown, which I wore in camp at 
Boulogne, when Lefebvre received from the emperor’s 
hand the grand eagle of the Legiog of Honor.” 

“ Here are other dresses,” she added, as they walked 


henriot’s marriage. 


93 


on, “ which recall grand memories. The one I wore 
at the coronation ; my court mantle for my presenta- 
tion to the empress ; the travelling cloak I wore when I 
joined Lefebvre at Dantzig.” 

Thus she enumerated one after another all the cos- 
tumes which she had piously preserved, as she opened 
the receptacles wherein they were arranged. 

Before opening the last closet on one side Catherine 
said with a smile : 

“ We will look at this one presently : it’s Lefebvre’s 
turn to show his second-hand clothes now.” And as 
she had done for herself, she exhibited in succession 
the uniform of a Garde-F rari(;aise which Lefebvre 
wore before the Revolution, the sword he carried as 
lieutenant in the National Guard on the Tenth of 
August, his uniform as a voltigeur in the 13th Light 
Infantry, his general’s uniform when he replaced 
Hoche in command of the Army of the Moselle, his 
senator’s coat, and his parade uniform as a marshal of 
France. 

The tarnished gold-lace, the faded trimmings, the 
holes burned by powder, the rents which bore witness 
to the passage of a Russian lance or an Austrian sabre, 
made of this apartment a sort of museum of glory, a 
shrine of devout patriotism. 

All those present were deeply moved, and it oc- 
curred to no one to laugh at Catherine when she 
opened the wardrobe she had reserved till last, and ex- 
hibited two Alsatian peasants’ costumes, one male, the 
other female. 


94 


henriot’s marriage. 


“ In this humble garb Lefebvre and myself desire *to 
be buried,” said she ; “ this petticoat I wore when I 
was a peasant girl, and this blouse was worn by Le- 
febvre when he worked at the mill in his village ; with 
these modest garments on our backs we will sleep side 
by side for ever ! ” 

“ Yes, that is my dearest wish ! ” said Lefebvre ; 
“ here are our coats-of-arms, my friends, and our gal- 
leries of ancestors. Though the emperor made us 
duke and duchess, we remained what we were, and 
when Lefebvre, the private, and Catherine, the can- 
tiniere, are buried, shorn of their dignities and their 
court clothes, it is our wish that nothing should be 
said of them, save this : 

“ ‘ Lefebvre and his wife, La Sans-Gene, had no 
genealogical portraits to show — their patents of no- 
bility were the clothes in which they worked and 
fought ; they were not descendants, they were ances- 
tors ! ’ ” 


VI. 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 

During the inspection of the domestic relics, con- 
ducted by Lefebvre and Catherine, Napoleon with- 
drew to the separate pavilion placed at his disposal by 
his hosts. 

He had declared his intention of passing the night 
beneath Lefebvre’s hospitable roof, and returning to 
Paris on the following morning after the religious 
ceremony, which was to be performed in the chapel of 
the chateau. 

A service of couriers and expresses had been or- 
ganized, and the emperor, who had brought his secre- 
tary, Meneval, with him, despatched the business of 
the day as usual. He worked wherever he was, and 
made himself at home everywhere. 

Until the dinner-hour the emperor seemed dis- 
traught. He continually inquired what time it was. 
He paced feverishly up and down the room which he 
used as an office, suddenly opening the door of the 
adjoining salon, as if he were expecting some person’s 
arrival, and closing it again as impulsively, with a 
disappointed look in his eyes. 

His secretary noticed his impatience, but he could 


96 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


not divine its cause. He attributed his visible in- 
quietude to the equivocal news received from the Rus- 
sian court. 

At last, as if he could contain himself no longer, the 
emperor cried : 

“That’s enough for this afternoon, Meneval. You 
may go now and join in the festivities which the Due 
de Dantzig provides so lavishly on the occasion of the 
wedding of his ward, Colonel Henriot.' Amuse your- 
self, Meneval, that is what young men like you should 
do — and then a wedding-party always induces a 
feeling of gayety ! ” 

He sought for his words, as if he had a question to 
put which embarrassed him. He soon began again, 
while the secretary was collecting his papers, closing 
his desk, and putting away the notes and original doc- 
uments of the correspondence in a portfolio to which 
there was a lock. 

“ Every one here seems to be in high spirits. The 
ball w T ill be very lively ; it seems to me that there are 
some very pretty women. Have you noticed the 
bride, Meneval ? I thought her very attractive.” 

“ She is one of the most charming women to be 
found at your court, sire, and many men are jealous 
of Colonel Henriot.” 

“ Ah ! you think her pretty ? so do I,” said the 
emperor, eagerly ; but the next instant, like the pro- 
found actor that he was, even in his most intimate 
circle, dissembling even with his most devoted friends, 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


97 


he continued in the same tone, seeking to conceal his 
secret feeling : 

“ Before you go, my dear Meneval, write an order — 
for an officer to be sent to the Ministry of War to 
bring back Portfolio F, containing the muster-rolls of 
the troops stationed in the neighborhood of the Bal 
tic.” 

“ Here is the order, sire,” said Meneval ; “ it only 
needs to have the name inserted of the officer whom 
your Majesty wishes to send.” 

“Leave it blank ; sign it per order, and hand it to 
me. Now you may go. By the way, send Constant 
to me ! ” 

The secretary withdrew, and Constant, dressed in 
black, with his characteristically obsequious manner 
and crafty expression, presented himself before his 
master, who ordered him to help him dress. 

Constant, being perfectly acquainted with Napo- 
leon’s habits, for he had been in his service since the 
Consulate, went to the dressing-room to get the razor, 
shaving-soap and mirror, and heated the water over a 
spirit-of-wine lamp. These preparations completed, in 
perfect silence, he went up to Napoleon and began to 
undress him. He had to be dressed and washed and 
combed like a baby. He touched nothing himself, 
but allowed himself to be worked over passively. He 
was like a well-ordered automaton. During this 
physical repose his thoughts wandered far afield. 

When the water began to sing, Constant stole on 


§8 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


tiptoe to the dressing-room door, opened it, and beck- 
oned without speaking. 

A tall, straight, slow-moving statue appeared. It 
wore a plumed turban, full trousers, a round vest, and 
carried a scimeter at its side, and two silver-hilted 
pistols in its belt of silk worked with gold wire. 

It was Roustan, the faithful Mameluke, whose 
fidelity, however, like that of the marshals, did not 
outlast the days of adversity. This Oriental, over- 
whelmed with favors by his master, who had the 
utmost confidence in him, and who relied upon him 
alone to look to his personal safety, did not choose to 
put himself to any inconvenience after the abdication. 
The climate of the island of Elba did not agree with 
his health. And then the Bourbons offered him the 
superintendence of a lottery. He managed it with 
profit to himself, and eventually went over into 
England, where he exhibited himself for money. 
Wellington, who had already given himself the some- 
what ignoble satisfaction of purchasing Napoleon’s 
former mistress, La Grassini, seized the opportunity 
to exhibit the emperor’s Mameluke at the fetes which 
he gave the English aristocracy in honor of Waterloo. 
From the moment that the wheel of fortune turned, 
and the emperor began to descend the steep and giddy 
slope of defeat, none but coward hearts and traitors’ 
faces were to be seen about him. Roustan, however, 
a Georgian slave, a fatalistic Mussulman, devout in 
the worship of the strongest, had some shadow of 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


99 


excuse for his treachery, which was entirely wanting 
to the time-serving marshals and corrupt courtiers, 
who snapped so viciously at the hand they had humbly 
fawned upon and licked when it still held the sceptre 
and the sword. One is almost tempted to look patiently 
upon the perfidy of the English, when remembering 
that of certain Frenchmen, when the black days came 
and the imperial star disappeared forever from the 
sky of Europe. 

But at the chateau of Combault Roustan had no 
thought of his future defection. The man who ven- 
tured to predict it would have incurred the furious 
wrath of the Mameluke. He served his master 
promptly and blindly, lie was never far away from 
his side, and intending assassins could be sure of 
finding him in their path. At night he slept across 
the emperor’s doorway. Maubreuil was not unmind- 
ful of this watchful guardian of the threshold, and 
that is why he provided himself, although his ultimate 
plan was still wrapped in mystery, with an auxiliary 
in the shape of Samuel Barker, Napoleon’s double, 
who might in case of need serve to deceive Roustan 
and lull his vigilance to sleep. 

Roustan walked up to Constant, took the little mir- 
ror and held it in front of Napoleon, who thereupon 
took the razor, which Constant handed to him open 
and ready for use. Napoleon shaved himself. He 
went through with the operation very rapidly. Then 
he hurried to his dressing-room, washed his hands and 


100 


I'HB EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


polished his nails, after which he returned and put 
himself in Constant’s hands. The valet removed his 
shirt and his flannel undershirt, and rubbed his whole 
body with eau-de- Cologne. The massage at an end, he 
was about to assist his master to don his drawers and 
trousers, when Napoleon thrust him aside, rushed to 
the fireplace, and impatiently threw two enormous 
logs on the fire, saying : 

“Ah! you rascal, do you want me to die with 
cold ? ” 

And he pinched his ear, as his custom was in his 
moments of good humor. 

The emperor was excessively cold-blooded. He 
must have fire in his apartments even during the sum- 
mer. At all seasons his bed was loaded down at night 
with heavy bedclothing. The intense cold that pre- 
vailed during the Russian campaign was unendurable 
to him, and in some sort paralyzed his activity and 
congealed his genius. 

Enlivened by the bright flame from the revivified 
fire, Napoleon once more pinched the valet’s ear and 
said, playfully : 

“You must make me very handsome to-day. I am 
anxious to make a good impression ! ” And a smile 
in which there was more irony than self-satisfaction 
played about his lips. 

He knew men, and women too, too well not to know 
that these niceties of the toilet were superfluous. Was 
he not emperor? His glory was his adornment, his 


THE EM PE K OR IN LOVE. 


101 


attraction lay in his power. But, although he was 
entirely indifferent in the matter of personal splendor, 
Napoleon had a decided taste for garb which was 
striking and uncommon by reason of its very sim- 
plicity, and which caused him to stand out in relief, a 
plain, severe figure, without lace or embroidery, against 
the gold background of his generals and courtiers. 
Pride spoke in the skirts of his modest gray redingote, 
and nothing revealed more clearly than the unusual 
shape of his small hat, without plume or clasp, the 
care he took to appear different from other men, even 
in the matter of head-gear. 

Constant finished dressing his master. He put on 
his flannel under-shirt, and his shirt; his legs were 
then encased in a pair of white silk stockings over 
very fine linen drawers, and his feet in light slippers. 
Renouncing for that day the white cashmere small 
clothes and military boots which he ordinarily wore, 
Napoleon expressed his purpose to don a pair of 
trousers a VAnglaise , very tight, with half-boots reach- 
ing to the middle of the calf. These dainty little 
salon boots were spurred with tiny silver spurs, almost 
invisible. A muslin cravat and a round waistcoat of 
white pique completed his costume, save for the coat. 
The chasseur’s coat which he ordinarily wore was all 
ready, but Napoleon put it aside and asked for the 
coat of a colonel in the grenadiers of the guard, which 
he wore more rarely. 

Colonel Henriot,” said he, “ will be in chasseur’s 


102 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


uniform, I in grenadier’s : that will serve to distinguish 
us.” 

And his enigmatical smile once more appeared upon 
his lips. 

He added almost immediately, as if unable to con- 
tain himself, and to prevent other words which rushed 
to his lips from escaping : 

“ The young bride is very attractive. What do you 
say, Master Constant ? ” 

The valet-de-chambre, who was quick to take the 
hint when his master, desirous of devoting a few 
moments to the delights of female society, mentioned 
some court beauty whom he thought of honoring with 
his homage, made a grimace, in which astonishment 
was mingled with respectful reproof. 

“ Your Majesty has excellent taste,” he said, in an 
oily tone ; “ the young lady is certainly worthy to at- 
tract your favorable notice, and under any other cir- 
cumstances I am assured that your Majesty would 
have to do no more than show your interest in her to 
lead her at once to manifest her gratitude for the 
signal honor in store for her. But to-day — in this 
chateau — on the very eve of her marriage — I think 
it would be better that your Majesty should turn his 
looks and his thoughts elsewhere.” 

“ So you think any advances on my part would be 
of no avail ? ” asked the emperor naively and some- 
what shamefacedly, with a perfect understanding of 
his valet's very plausible objections. 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


103 


“ I think that your Majesty would waste your 
efforts — at least for the moment,” replied Constant, 
frankly. 

“ If your Majesty,” he added in the next breath, 
“ is desirous of diverting yourself, there are a number 
of ladies here who would be very happy to solace their 
emperor for this little disappointment, and help him to 
be patient.” 

With the familiarity which he was tacitly permitted 
to indulge in, Constant, introducer-in-ordinary of Napo- 
leon’s ephemeral fancies into the little entresol of the 
Tuileries, where Bourrienne once had his quarters, 
and which communicated by a dark corridor with the 
imperial cabinet, Constant, we say the titular Mer- 
cury, made haste to add : 

“ There are at Combault at this moment Madame 
de Remusat, Madame de Lugay — ” 

Napoleon made an impatient gesture. 

“ Let them flirt with my aide-de-camjp . Well ! am 
I all ready? My toilet is finished. Very good ! take 
the light ; dinner is served and they have been waiting 
for me a long while ! ” 

Constant marveled greatly at the emperor’s tone, 
and at his curt refusal of his services. He took the 
light, with a shake of the head, and preceded Napoleon 
to the room where the officer on duty was awaiting 

him. 

“ Colonel Henriot,” he muttered, dwelling upon his 
great experience in the matter of his master’s amorous 


104 


THE EMPEROR IN LOYE. 


caprices, “ Colonel Henriot will do well to mount 
guard to-niglit at his fiancee’s door, if he wishes to lead 
her to the altar in her wedding-dress to-morrow ! ” 

The dinner was very sumptuous and very long, and 
it was noticed with great surprise, that the emperor 
remained at table until the third course, although he 
ordinarily rose as soon as the first was served. 

He did his best to prolong the dinner, plying the 
grand marshal, who sat next Alice de Beaurepaire, 
with questions, and gazing constantly at his pretty 
neighbor. 

Duroc replied as best he could, assisting the em- 
peror’s scheme, which he was not slow to detect. All 
Napoleon’s generals and courtiers were to some extent 
his panders. When he had cast his eye upon some 
fair one, reputed to be amiable, and a fitting recipient 
of the honor of his momentary attentions, they all vied 
with one another in earnest endeavors to diyine and to 
anticipate the master’s wishes. Husbands, by their 
indifferent vigilance, indirectly encouraged their wives 
to yield to their august pursuer ; lovers, by neglecting 
their mistresses, incited them to commit an act of 
treachery so flattering to their self-love ; fathers 
proudly allowed their daughters to go astray in the 
direction of the imperial couch. These high toned 
procurers in some instances were the possessors of 
sonorous titles in the oldest French aristocracy ; others 
bore names which were made resplendent by the 
record of victories won ; but all, equally conscienceless 


THE EMPEKOR IN LOVE. 


105 


and servile, thought of nothing but showing themselves 
complaisant servants. Constant had dukes and mar- 
quises for colleagues in the service of the little entresol. 

They who have reproached Napoleon with his 
boundless pride, his contempt for the ordinary senti- 
ments of humanity, and his sovereign scorn for man- 
kind, which was evident in his acts and words and 
looks, cannot fail to see that his surroundings were 
the sufficient justification of the pride and contempt. 
As for the scorn, did not the men who approached 
him solicit it ? What man could resist the desire to 
be great amid a kneeling crowd? During fifteen 
years of real power Napoleon saw nothing but bent 
necks around and before him. Patience ! let the Eng- 
lish, the Prussian, the Russian and Austrian come, 
victorious at last, and all these curved spines will 
straighten up, the ennobled of yesterday with the clod- 
hopper of to-day will bend the knee before the fat 
paunch of Louis XVIII, and to earn oblivion of their 
former antechamber services, all these auxiliaries of 
Constant will do their utmost to assist in rele^atin^ 
him, the mere sight of whom would recall their 
former servility, to the trackless waste of the southern 
ocean. 

The charm which the emperor visibly felt in the 
presence of Ilenriot’s fiancee was very quickly noticed 
and passed around the circle of courtiers and digni- 
taries, and commented on by significant hints and 
nudges, stifled coughs, and pinches of snuff offered 


- 


106 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


with a mischievous look, and accepted with a knowing 
air. Lefebvre alone, being too intent upon his duties 
as host, noticed nothing. Natural blindness. Logical 
consequence. 

But Napoleon’s preoccupation, which was so notice- 
able when Duroc leaned toward Alice as if to trans- 
late to her the thoughts expressed by the ardent, 
piercing glances which shot from his master’s eyes, did 
not escape the marechale , nor did the strange embar- 
rassment of the amorous despot when he addressed 
Henriot’s fiancee directly. 

She shuddered with impatience. Her feet drummed 
nervously upon the floor. She felt the blood rushing 
to her cheeks. She longed to rise from the table, send 
away her guests, and then speak her mind, apostro- 
phizing Napoleon with the lack of ceremony she had 
shown on two or three memorable occasions, reproach- 
ing him for the scheme he had in contemplation, in- 
ducing him to abandon it, and thus, as audaciously as 
on that terrible night at Compiegne when Neipperg’s 
life hung in the balance, preserving Alice’s honor, and 
keeping Henriot’s fiancee pure for him. Oh! she 
knew what she would need to say ! She knew how to 
take Napoleon, for she understood him. But first of 
all, she must be face to face with him and alone. And 
etiquette nailed her to her chair in his presence. She 
brooded over her anguish in a fever of impatience, 
without touching the food which was set before her, 
and at intervals darted a furious glance at Lefebvre, 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


107 


who, being utterly unable to understand his wife’s 
emotion, rolled his eyes about in wonder, and said to 
himself uneasily : 

“ Have I, without knowing it, done some idiotic 
thing ? But the emperor doesn’t seem put out — on 
the contrary, he never seemed in better humor. Then 
why does Catherine look so at me ? Certainly, there’s 
something, but what is it ? ” 

The imperial serenity, which was undeniable, re- 
assured him somewhat. However, he could not suc- 
ceed in divining the reason for Catherine’s perceptible 
irritation. Oh ! he knew his good wife too well to be 
mistaken in her face. 

“ She put her cap on wrong this morning ! ” he mut- 
tered ; “ look out for squalls ! ” And he assumed his 
sweetest, gentlest demeanor, waiting till the storm 
should pass and the skies clear. But what could have 
happened to mar the harmony of the occasion, and dis- 
turb the marechale’s serenity? Was not everything 
going on most successfully ? The guests were in 
ecstasies, the admirably-conducted festivities received 
nothing but compliments, and the emperor was smil- 
ing. What the devil could have disarranged La Sans- 
Gene’s cap, her beplumed diadem rather, on such an 
auspicious occasion ? The worthy marshal’s perplex- 
ity sadly interfered with his satisfaction as master of 
the revels, and his delight in seeing the emperor con- 
tent. 

The dinner came to an end before poor Lefebvre 


108 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


had discovered the cause of the tempest which he felt 
was about to burst upon him. 

Desirous of avoiding an explanation in the presence 
of his guests, for he knew by long experience that 
nothing would stop Catherine when she had anything 
upon her mind, and that he must do his best to check 
her expansiveness, he glided behind the courtiers who 
were thronging about the emperor as he stood leaning 
against the chimney-piece, holding in his hand the cup 
of smoking coffee which Alice, with cheeks aflame and 
glistening eyes, had just handed to him. 

The young bride was conscious of the vivid impres- 
sion her appearance had produced upon Napoleon, 
even if she had not observed the mar eel tale's excite- 
ment. The grand marshal, indeed, by the very brief 
but very explicit confidences he had whispered in her 
ear during dinner, had made it easier for her to under- 
stand the emperor’s attitudes and sighs and languish- 
ing glances. 

Having 'swallowed his coffee, Napoleon walked into 
the small salon wliich was reserved for his private use, 
and which no one was expected to enter unless 
specially summoned. 

Everybody drew aside to let him pass. lie motioned 
to Duroc to accompany him. After they had con- 
versed for a few moments, where nobody could see or 
hear them, the grand marshal reappeared. 

He seemed to be searching for some one in the brill- 
iant throng of uniforms and low-necked dresses. 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


109 


Thereupon Catherine abruptly left Madame de 
Montesquiou, who was about to present to her one of 
the guests, the Comte de Maubreuil. She was fully 
alive to the fact that the grand marshal had been 
closeted with the emperor and she was determined to 
know what confidential instructions he had received. 

“ What are they plotting there together ? ” she 
thought. “ Surely, it has something to do with Alice ! 
Ah ! but I won’t put up with anything of the sort ! I 
am here to reckon with ! I am on guard and I’m not 
afraid of Napoleon ! ” 

When she saw Duroc cross the salon to where Alice 
was sitting with Henriot by her side, she could contain 
herself no longer. 

“ Excuse me ! ” she said, hastily, by way of apology 
to Maubreuil and the governess : “ I have something 
important to say to the Due de Frioul.” 

She walked* directly toward Duroc, but he had al- 
ready taken Henriot’s arm and was leading him off to 
the emperor’s little salon. 

Catherine, disconcerted, formed a sudden resolution. 
Leaving the salon as if unexpectedly summoned by 
some household duty, she went into the salle-a-manger , 
and thence to a hall which made the circuit of the 
State apartments, and ppproached on tiptoe a small 
door leading into the private salon. 

“This isn’t a very dignified performance, listening 
at doors,” she muttered, picking up her long train 
which sadly embarrassed her. “ If I should be sur- 


110 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


prised at it they might take me for a chambermaid. 
But the end justifies the means, as Talleyrand said to 
me the other day when I was reproving him for one 
of his low tricks. The thing now is to save Alice — to 
say nothing of poor Henriot who has no suspicion what 
sort of a plume Duroc proposes to plant on his head. 
Never mind ! I know what I’m about at all events ! ” 

In feverish anxiety she placed her ear against the 
door. 

The emperor was speaking. 

“ You will start to-night,” he was saying in his in- 
cisive tones : “ you may continue for the present to 
pay court to your charming fiancee. There is no need 
that any one here should know the mission I have en- 
trusted to you and your absence will not be noticed. 
The festivities will probably come to a close within an 
hour and every one will have gone to his room ; then 
you can start without being noticed! You under- 
stand ? ” 

“ Perfect^, sire ! ” replied a voice, which the mare- 
chale recognized as Henriot’s. 

“ One of my carriages is waiting all harnessed under 
the porch — you will take it. The Due de Frioul 
will show you the way. How long a time will it take 
to drive to Paris, Duroc ? ” 

“With your majesty’s horses, four hours!” said 
another voice — the grand marshal’s. ' 

“ Good. Colonel Henriot,” continued the emperor, 
“you will go at once to the War Department, You 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


Ill 


will procure from the official on duty Portfolio F, 
containing divers documents and lists with a series of 
maps. The case is of morocco and is marked — War- 
saw' — Vilna — Yitepsk — you will readily recognize 
it. I rely upon you ! ” 
u Sire, I will do my best.” 

“You will bring the portfolio back to me in great 
haste. You can be here, I think, early in the morn- 
ing. I regret,” added Napoleon, in a honeyed tone, 
which surprised Catherine and extorted from her the 
exclamation : “ Ah ! the rascal ! how he wheedles 
him ! ” — “I regret to send you away on the eve of 
your wedding, but so short an absence will have no 
other effect than to make your return the happier. 
You will return to-morrow early enough to lead your 
blushing bride to the altar, and better satisfied with 
yourself for having performed a service for your em- 
peror ; and in this way you will justify my confidence, 
as witnessed by your promotion.” 

u Sire, for you I would go to the end of the world ! ” 
“Very good! but for the moment I ask you to go 
only as far as Paris — only a matter of ten leagues. 
By the way, take this order: 'it will give you access 
to the ministry. Until to-morrow, colonel ! ” 

With that, the emperor, handing Henriot .the order 
prepared by Meneval, dismissed the young officer, 
proud of the* mission entrusted to him and overjoyed 
by this manifestation of his sovereign’s good will, of 
which he was far from suspecting the real cause. 


112 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


The marechale, having listened to the whole of this 
interview, stood erect, with flushed face and beating 
heart, a prey to one of those violent explosions which 
had, in the old days of the Quartier Saint-Roch, and 
in camp with Lefebvre, won for her her reputation 
and her sobriquet. 

She remoVed her ear from the door when Napoleon 
began to talk in low tones with Duroc, who soon after 
withdrew, giving place to M. de Narbonne, the aide- 
de-camp on duty, who informed the emperor of the 
attitude assumed in Paris salons by the Russian am- 
bassador, and detailed the remarks he made at a dinner 
party at which Talleyrand was present. 

There was nothing more for her to hear. She knew 
enough, too much, indeed. 

“ Ten thousand devils ! ” she grumbled, planting her 
hands upon her hips, one of her favorite attitudes as 
cantiniere in the army of Sambre-et-Meuse — and 
standing in the centre of the dark, deserted corridor, 
as if she were addressing an invisible auditor : “ No ! 
it shall not be ! It shall never be said that that idiot 
of a Henriot was cozened like this the night before 
his wedding. That portfolio business is all smoke, 
innocent. Luckily I am on the watch. But what 
am I to do ? To warn Henriot will make a scandal 
and perhaps break off the marriage ; and then the 
poor boy seems so happy, why should 1 make him 
suffer? Let him know nothing about it, that’s the 
best way — Alice is the one to be warned.” 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


113 


She walked forward a few steps ; then stopped and 
reflected anew. 

“ No ! Alice musn’t know w r hat I am going to do. 
Young women are fickle and lightheaded and thought- 
less ; they don’t realize what imprudent things they 
do until it’s too late. ’She certainly loves Henriot, 
but the emperor is so powerful : perhaps she is flat- 
tered by his attentions. What woman would be strong 
enough to resist him ? ” 

A smile lighted up her perplexed countenance and 
her ruffled features became smooth : 

u To be sure, I was ! ” she exclaimed, with a simper, 
“ but that doesn’t count ! I'm not a woman, for I 
have served in the grenadiers. That slip of an Alice 
hasn’t the pluck ; if she falls into the emperor’s claws, 
it’s all up with her. To warn her is to push her 
straight into the trap. No ! I will act alone ; but 
how? Henriot is not to start at once, the emperor 
advised him to wait. I have at least an hour before 
me ; and that is enough. I must go and tell Lefebvre 
first of all.” 

Unceremoniously gathering up her long skirt of 
rich Lyons stuff, Catherine ran quickly along the cor- 
ridor into the scille-a-manger , and passed through sev- 
eral salons, looking about and inquiring everywhere 
for the marshal. 

At last she discovered Lefebvre in a window-recess, 
talking with the King of Westphalia’s former equerry, 
M. de Maubreuil, whom she had left so abruptly just 


114 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


as Madame de Montesquiou was presenting him to 
her. 

She walked quickly up to them, struggling to con- 
ceal her anxiety with a smile, and said to Maubreuil : 

“ Really, monsieur, I seem fated to be rude to you. 
A moment ago I was called afray on urgent domestic 
business. You understand, do you not? with so many 
people to receive and his Majesty here — and you have 
forgiven me ? Now I meet you again here, but only 
to interrupt your conversation, for I must take the 
marshal away. Mon Dieu ! you will forgive me 
again, I know : on a day like this, the masters of the 
house are not their own masters.” 

She concluded her apology with a stately courtesy 
to signify to M. de Maubreuil that their interview was 
at an end. As she drew back her foot and bent her 
head according to the principles inculcated by Master 
Despreaux for ceremonious salutations, she made re- 
peated signals to Lefebvre to leave Maubreuil and 
join her where they would be alone. 

Maubreuil, with dignified courtesy, hastened to reply 
that it was his place to apologize for intruding upon 
his hosts in the midst of a reception. His conversa- 
tion with the marshal could as well as not be postponed, 
and resumed on a more propitious occasion. 

“ Yes, my dear sir, we will speak again of your 
extraordinary and improbable conviction,” said Le- 
, febvre, with his usual good humor. “ Would you be- 
lieve, my dear, that M. de Maubreuil, who has just re- 


K 

THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 115 

turned from London, is convinced that we are to have 
a war with Russia ? Think of it ! is it credible ? 
Why, isn’t the Emperor Alexander the friend and ad- 
mirer, the pupil as he says himself, of our emperor ? 
Alexander swears by Napoleon. I tell you I myself 
saw them embrace at Erfurt ! ” 

“ Aha ! monsieur anticipates war with Russia ? 
M. de Maubreuil may be a better prophet than you 
think ! ” rejoined Catherine, gravely. Napoleon’s 
words during her audience at the Tuileries came to 
her mind. 

“ Pray forgive me, madame la duchesse,” rejoined 
Maubreuil, courteously. “ I do not wish to cast a 
shadow over your fete by my gloomy forebodings: I 
hope I am wrong, and monsieur le marechal will for- 
give me for having detained him to listen to such 
vague conjectures.” 

Saluting Lefebvre, he walked up to Catherine, and 
said to her in a very low tone : 

“ I was particularly desirous to speak with you, 
madame la duchesse. I am sent by M. de Neipperg, 
who is now in London. When and where can I see 
you, where we shall not be observed ? What I have 
to say to you is of importance, and must not be heard 
or guessed at here. We are too near — ” 

And M. de Maubreuil glanced significantly toward 
Napoleon’s private salon. 

The marecliale started at Neipperg’s name. She 
suspected some new intrigue connected with Marie- 
Louise. 


116 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


In considerable uneasiness she said rapidly to Mau- 
breuil, in an undertone : 

“ M. de Neipperg is not in Paris, then ? ” 

“ No, madame, I left him at London : he was mak 
ing preparations to go to St. Petersburg on a mission 
from his government.’' 

“You reassure me ! Very well, monsieur le comte, 
go and wait for me in my apartments, where we can 
speak freely of our friend : I will join you there as 
soon as the emperor has retired.” 

“ Your apartments ? in what part of the chateau? 
It is not advisable for me to inquire of the servants. 
My presence there at this hour might cause sur- 
prise.” 

“ It is an easy matter to find your way. My bou- 
doir, where I will ask you to wait patiently until I 
join ymu, opens out of the salon where the bride’s 
wedding gifts and trousseau are displayed : you can 
pass through the salon. But,” continued the mare- 
chale with a laugh, “ you mustn’t make a mistake and 
go to the bride’s room. However, I’ll send some one 
to show you the way.” 

The marechale motioned to a footman and spoke a 
few words to him. Maubreuil, having bowed low to 
her, followed the servant. The villainous smile that 
he wore when some great rascality was in contempla- 
tion played about his thin lips. 

Thereupon Catherine took her husband’s arm, and 
led him toward the window : 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


117 


“ Listen to me,” said she : “ there is news for you.” 
“ What ? the war with Russia ? ” 

“ No, not that for the moment : but news about 
Henriot — and Alice.” 

“ Are they sick ? have they had trouble ? ” 

“Worse than that! the emperor finds Alice to his 
taste*; he has his eye on her.” 

“ The devil ! that’s an amusing idea : the emperor ! ” 
“You call it amusing, do you?” cried Catherine, 
glaring wrathfully at Lefebvre, who recoiled in terror. 

“ Why, what would you have me call it ? ” said he, 
shrugging his shoulders : “ does the emperor consult 
me concerning his amours ? Can I prevent him from 
making eyes at Alice ? ” 

‘“No! but you can and ought to put yourself be- 
tween him. and Alice. She is Henriot’s wife, Le- 
febvre, and they are both our children. Isn’t it possi- 
ble for us to protect them from the danger that threat- 
ens them?” 

“ That is to say, protect them from the emperor ? ” 
“You hesitate : you are afraid, Lefebvre! ” 

“Yes, I am afraid; and you know of whom. 
There’s no other man in Europe capable of producing 
that effect upon me. And for that reason when I see 
him I am never at my ease, fond as I am of him. 
Why, simply by looking at me with those eyes of his 
the man turns me inside out; in short, I can’t imagine 
myself preventing Napoleon from taking a city or a 
woman if he pleases. No, Catherine, I would rather 


118 


THE EMPEROR IN LOVE. 


burrow in a caisson than say : ‘ Sire, you shall not do 
that ! ’ In the first place, he would send me to the 
devil.” 

“Very well! I’ll tell him and he won’t send me 
there.” 

“You will have the effrontery? ” 

“ Pardine ! that I will. As if I hadn’t already 
spoken to him several times, and he never yet pre- 
vented my saying what I thought ! ” 

Lefebvre gazed at his wife with admiration mingled 
with stupefaction, as one would contemplate an auda- 
cious explorer about to venture into a lion’s den or 
descend into a volcano in eruption. 

“ Take care and not get me into trouble with the 
emperor,” he ventured, decidedly anxious over Cath- 
erine’s purpose. 

The marechale raised her left shoulder twice and 
remarked : 

“ You’re nothing but an idiot ! ” 

“You talk like Napoleon!” was Lefebvre’s mut- 
tered rejoinder to this apostrophe. 

But Catherine had already left him, for she noticed 
a movement among her guests toward the small salon ; 
the emperor was probably about to retire and she 
must seize the opportunity to speak boldly to him, 
face to face. 

The lion must be bearded in his den. 


VII. 


SANS-GENE KISSES NAPOLEON. 

The emperor greeted the marechale most graciously. 
He was most decidedly in one of his affable moods. 
He congratulated her upon the success of her fete , 
and complemented her in words which would have 
flattered her immensely at another time, upon her 
graceful manner of entertaining her guests. 

As Napoleon was addressing her thus condescend- 
ingly, by way of taking leave of her, and as he 
motioned to Duroc to attend him to his apartments, 
the marechale said with a slight trembling in her 
voice : 

“ Sire, you are too kind to express your satisfaction 
with our efforts. Lefebvre and I have done what we 
could to render our hospitality not unworthy of you.” 

“ And you have succeeded in every respect, madame 
la duchesse.” 

“ Thanks, oh ! thanks ! but, sire,” she added, sup- 
plicatingly, “I have a favor to ask of you.” 

“ A favor ? ” said the emperor, wonderingly, “ pray, 
what is it? tell me.” 

“ Sire, I dare not — I am so afraid of offending 
your Majesty.” 


120 


SANS-GENE KISSES NAPOLEON. 


“ Oho ! is it so serious as all that? Well, let us 
hear it ! What is it about ? ” 

“ Colonel Ilenriot, sire.” 

Catherine’s voice trembled as she uttered the name 
and she glanced anxiously at the emperor, whose eye- 
brows were contracted. He no longer wore his good- 
natured, approachable expression ; the moon had 
changed. 

“Well, what is it about Colonel Henriot ? Did 
you see him start for Paris ? Do you need him ? 
You are not to marry him, I believe ?” 

“ No, sire, but Mademoiselle Alice de Beaurepaire, 
my Alice, whom I love as if she were my own 
daughter. I am seeking to defend Henriot’s happi- 
ness, and on my knees to beg you to spare Alice’s — 
life, perhaps. Have mercy, sire ! be kind ! be gener- 
ous ! ” 

“ What do you mean by this ? Have you, in the 
excitement of the fete, lost a little of the good judg- 
ment which I once took pleasure in recognizing and 
praising in you, duchess ? ” said the emperor, in some 
embarrassment, and concealing his confusion beneath 
a cloak of ironical bluntness. 

“I have all my reasoning powers, and your Majesty 
well knows that if there is any madness in the wind, 1 
am not the one likely to be guilty of it.” 

“ You are very impertinent to speak so to me. 
Who gave you the right to do it? ” 

Yourself, sire! Oh! listen to me, I pray! you 


SANS-GENE KISSES NAPOLEON. 


121 


are great and powerful, the whole world is at your 
feet and no one 'dares to oppose the least of your 
wishes. To the whole universe your will is law, and 
your whims find no one who is not anxious to gratify 
them. I alone brave your wrath by telling you what 
no one else would have the courage even to think in 
your presence.” 

“ No, no one, in very truth, would have the audacity, 
the insolence ! but go on, 1 am curious to know how 
far your insolence will go : do you think you can take 
any liberty you choose, madame ? ” 

“ Sire, my temerity has its birth in my love for you 
and your renown. I have detected your design ; 1 
know that you have conceived a passion — or is it 
really a passion ? it is nothing more than a mere 
momentary caprice, I am sure. Oh ! do not yield to 
it; since you can do anything, control yourself — do 
not allow yourself to be tempted, when you are strong 
enough not to give way to those things which govern 
other men ! Do not, your Majesty, change a day of 
joy into a long succession of wretched years. Alice 
is a lovely, innocent girl, Henriot a gallant soldier and 
one of your most devoted servants, as he has demon- 
strated ; do not inflict misery upon them both, and 
after heaping favors upon them, do not overwhelm 
them with the weight of your imperious will ; respect 
the happiness of these two young people, sire ; you can 
and should do it ! ” 

“ The woman is mad, upon my word ! ” muttered 
Napoleon, a little out of countenance, 


122 


SANS-GENE KISSES NAPOLEON. 


To gain time to recover his self-possession, he 
pulled out his snuff box, and nervously inhaled two 
large pinches of snuff, some of which reached the 
marechale' s nose, and made her sneeze. 

“ God bless you ! ” said Napoleon, mechanically, 
with his fingers still in the snuff-box. 

“ Thanks, and the same to you, sire ! ” replied 
Catherine, and immediately resuming the thread of her 
entreaty, she described, with deep emotion, the preca- 
rious birth of the two children, and how they passed 
their infancy side 'by side in a cradle which often 
rested on a gun-carriage. They were lulled to sleep 
by the musketry of the army of Sambre-et-Meuse, and 
Ilenriot carried a gun before he lost his milk teeth. 
Alice, after being parted from him, had met him once 
more during the glorious campaign in Germany : their 
childish affection revived, and it was decided that they 
should marry after the victory. Did not the emperor 
promise to sign the marriage-contract of the young 
officer, who took Stettin for him with a platoon of 
cavalry ? Surely, so much youthful charm and valor 
should inspire nothing but good-will in the emperor, 
and a desire to protect the young people, who were in 
every way deserving of his protection. Having come 
as a guest to the chateau, which two of his oldest 
servants owed to his bounty, his early companion-in- 
arms, Lefebvre, and herself, his friend when fortune 
frowned upon him, Napoleon could not repay their 
hospitality by inflicting dishonor and despair upon 
them. 


SANS-GENE KISSES NAPOLEON. 


123 


“ Sire, you will not punish your old Sans Gene, by 
making her curse her inspiration to solicit the honor 
of your presence at the wedding of those whom she 
looks upon as her own children ! ” she concluded, 
throwing herself at the emperor’s feet. 

“ Rise, duchess ! you might be surprised in that 
posture, for I am expecting the Due de Frioul, and 
unpleasant comments would be made: people would 
wonder what favor I could possibly refuse to the wife 
of my old comrade Lefebvre.” 

Napoleon s eye was clear once more, and his brow 
serene, as he gravely assisted Catherine to rise. 

Hope inspired the duchess anew. She felt that she 
had found a way to move the emperor, and that her 
cause was half won. She determined to return to the 
charge. The heart, like iron, requires to be struck 
when it is hot. 

“ By renouncing this flame, which would wreck the 
happiness of two subjects well worthy of your protec- 
tion, sire, you would not only show yourself to be 
humanely disposed, you would at the same time be 
farsighted and clever.’’ 

“ What do you mean, duchess ? threats, now, eh ? ” 

u No, simply advice, sire! You are at the summit 
of power, and greeted everywhere with acclama- 
tions and flattery : but your throne, solidly established 
as it seems, is undermined by treachery. In all the 
gilded throngs which bow down before you and follow 
at your heels, I feel instinctively that there are many 


124 


SANS-GENE KISSES NAPOLEON. 


lying tongues, many eyes which shine with a false 
light, and more than one bent backbone which only 
waits for an opportunity to straighten up. You have 
your heel upon the head of these belaced serpents, and 
not one of them dares bite, but let a certain thing 
happen — ” 

“You refer to my death?” said Napoleon, calmly. 
“Oh! I am prepared for it. Yes, when I am no 
longer here, all those whom I have held down, crushed 
perhaps, will rise again, full of gall and bitterness, and 
my son will have to defend himself against them. 
AVell! what next? what are you driving at, and what 
is the meaning of this disrespectful language, which I 
pardon because of your good intentions, but to which 
I do not care to listen any longer ? ” 

“ In the name of your child, sire, do not discourage, 
do not wound your most devoted servants. Do you 
fancy that if you disregard what I say, and if, in 
spite of everything, you carry out your present pur- 
pose, the fact will not be noised abroad, and result in 
the disaffection of a considerable number of people 
who already, it may be, have their eyes across the 
frontier, and are seeking a pretext or an excuse for 
treachery which you do not suspect, sire, but which 
Lefebvre and I divine and see and know because we 
love you ? ” 

“You know of treachery and don’t give me the 
names of the traitors ! ” 

“ Your Majesty would not believe me if I should 

give you the names.” 


SANS-GENE KISSES NAPOLEON. 


125 


“ Parbleu ! I see what you are coming at. Fouche, 
Talleyrand, always the same old story ! I am heartily 
sick of denunciations of them,” exclaimed Napoleon, 
testily. 

“ I trust that the future will not undertake to justify 
the bold denouncers,” rejoined Catherine, firmly : 
“ but, sire, consider that there are your generals, too, 
your former companions-in arms. Many of them are 
weary of following you about from one battlefield to 
another, others are tired of having always postponed 
till the next day the moment when they can tranquilly 
enjoy what they have acquired, what they have col- 
lected in their pockets and in their chateaux, where 
they feel like guests who have alighted at the posting- 
house for a change of horses. In short, there are 
those who, to justify the impatience which can be read 
in their eyes, will not hesitate to spread calumnious 
reports concerning your conduct ; and unscrupulous 
penny-a-liners will reproduce them in the scurrilous 
sheets which your enemies sudsidize and quarrel over 
at London, Vienna, Berlin and St. Petersburg. Oh ! 
pray don’t provide any new virus for their poisoned 
pens ! ” 

“You are very bold to speak so to me,” said the 
emperor, stepping toward Catherine, and fixing his 
piercing eye upon her, “ but I love plain speaking, and 
your sermon, harsh as it is, may be of service to me. 
Yes, I know that infamous libels are printed and 
hawked about in foreign countries, wherein I am 


126 SANS-GBNE KISSES NAPOLEON. 

\ 

/ 

accused of all the crimes in the calendar, wherein I am 
made to appear as a monster adding incest to assassi- 
nation, and rounding out adultery with savageries 
worthy of the madman who wrote “ Justine,” and for 
whose deliverance the Parisians took the Bastille. 
Perhaps you are right — I ought to take note of the 
traitors who are crawling about me in the shadow, 
and of the pamphleteers who are defaming me in all 
the courts of Europe : it is most essential that I should 
maintain intact for my son the friendship and fidelity 
of my gallant officers, who have never hesitated to in- 
cur fatigue and pain or to risk their lives in my ser- 
vice. As I do not wish,” continued Napoleon, after a 
brief pause, accompanying his words with a depreca- 
tory gesture, — “ as I do not wish that you, duchess, 
and your husband, with Qther old-time supporters of 
my crown should retain the least suspicion as to my 
intentions, 1 shall order Colonel Henriot not to go to 
Paris to-night, as he was to do on special service. He 
shall remain here, as this countermand gives you so 
much pleasure ; he shall pass the night preceding his 
wedding under the same roof with his fiancee , , and 
thus no breath of suspicion can attach to the young 
woman, and no doubt find its way into the gallant 
officer’s heart. Is that what you would have, 
duchess ? ” 

“ Ah! sire,. you are great, and good as well ! ” 

“ Wait ! that is not all. My presence at the cere- 
mony to-morrow will serve no useful purpose. Indeed, 


SANS-GENE KISSES NAPOLEON. 


127 


it might be painful — for me ! for the bride is very 
fascinating, duchess, and very dangerous.” 

“ It’s not her fault, sire.” 

“Very true,” said the emperor with a smile, “but 
the danger is none the less real for those who are ex- 
posed to it. There are dangers, in the face of which 
true courage consists in flight, or at least in not accept- 
ing battle. Do you understand? Henriot’s mission 
was connected with most important interests of State; 
you know my decision now, and I trust you will keep 
it secret.” 

“ Yes, sire ; it will be all the easier for me to hold 
my tongue as I have no idea of the secret which your 
Majesty wishes me to keep.” 

“ Really ! Colonel Henriot’s errand was to bring 
me from the Ministry of War a portfolio, the contents 
of which I desired to consult before despatching a 
courier to M. de Pradt, at Warsaw. As Henriot is to 
remain here he will not bring me the portfolio ; so as 
Mahomet went to the mountain, I will go to the port- 
folio. Do you understand now ? I will leave Com- 
bault ; I will not see again the charming and redoubt- 
able bride, in whose presence I would not promise to 
keep the good resolutions you compel me to form, 
duchess ! It’s decided then. My departure, explained 
by important news received during the night, will sur- 
prise no one, nor will it give rise to any unpleasant 
reflections upon your charming hospitality, my dear 
marechale , nor upon my feeling for your husband. 


128 


SANS-GENE KISSES NAPOLEON. 


My presence throughout the day at the festivities and 
rejoicings, which reflect so much credit on you both, 
will prevent any inference being drawn from my ab- 
sence to-morrow ; I will start for Paris after a brief 
appearance at the chapel. Your young people will 
enjoy their wedding more perhaps without me. You 
may set your mind at rest, therefore, and be happy ! 
Have no fears touching the welfare of your adopted 
child, and in order that you may have not the slight- 
est uneasiness concerning the night, do you go and 
find Colonel Henriot for me ; I will myself discharge 
him from his mission, and I desire to renew my good 
wishes in person so that he may have no suspicion and 
may not look upon this countermand as a disgrace.” 

Catherine looked at the emperor in utter amaze- 
ment, unable to realize that she had so completely 
won his heart. 

The emperor enjoyed her surprise and delight. 

“ Well, my good Sans-Gene,” said he, “ are you sat- 
isfied with me ? ” 

“ Ah ! sire ! Ah ! my emperor, if I hadn’t a firm 
hold on myself — ” 

“ What would you do, pray ? ” 

“I would throw my arms around your neck and 
kiss you ! ” 

“ Pshaw ! we are alone ; there's nobody by to tell 
tales, and Lefebvre won’t be jealous. If your heart 
tells you to do it, don’t gainsay it, duchess ! ” 

And Napoleon, in one of his by no means infrequent 


/ 


SAN-GENE KISSES NAPOLEON. 


129 


attacks of familiar good-humor, held out his arms to 
Catherine, who rushed into them. 

“ Now, duchess,” said he, releasing her and pinch- 
ing the lobe of her ear, “ go quickly and find Colonel 
Henriot, and send Duroc to me.” 

The marechale returned almost immediately with a 
crestfallen face. The grand marshal accompanied 
her. 

“Well, what’s the matter?” queried Napoleon. 

“ Sire, you sent for Colonel Henriot, but he has 
gone. In accordance with your Majesty’s orders, he 
has been on the road to Paris twenty-five minutes. It 
will soon be half after eleven,” said Duroc. 

“ True ! we have been gossiping with the Duchesse 
de Dantzig, and the time lias flown by. Duroc, 
despatch one of my guides after the carriage; let 
him ride hard until he overtakes it, and send Colonel 
Henriot back ; his mission is at an end. As for our- 
selves, my dear duke, under covet of the darkness we 
will steal away from the chateau and walk to the vil- 
lage, as the Caliph Ilaroun-al Raschid and his faithful 
vizier Giaffar used to walk about sleeping Bagdad. 
Duchess, you will bid Roustan bring- us one of Lefeb- 
vre’s carriages on the road to Queue-en-Brie ; when it 
overtakes us we will quietly get in, with Roustan on the 
box beside the coachman, and while we are supposed to 
be peaceably sleeping in our beds we will be trotting 
along toward the barriers of Paris. At daybreak I 
will surprise the empress at the Tuileries, and she will 


130 


SANS-GENE KISSES NAPOLEON. 


be delighted. Adieu, duchess ; receive my congratu- 
lations as a most thoroughly gratified guest. Off we 
go, Duroc! Madame la marechale will cover our re- 
treat ! ” 

Followed by Duroc, he hastily left the room by the 
little door at which Catherine had overheard the inter- 
view with Henriot. 

“ Ah ! how can one not love the man ? ” cried Cath- 
erine, still under the spell ; “ what he just did is finer 
than winning a battle. Ten thousand bombs ! one 
would like to have ten lives, to give them all to him.” 

With that she sent two loud, expressive kisses 
through the door after Napoleon, as he walked away 
on the grand marshal’s arm. 


Till. 


HKN RIOT’S RETURN. 

Napoleon having taken his leave of Alice as he 
had resolved to do, but not without a mixture of regret 
and chagrin, which he was careful not to let Duroc 
discover, the young woman, preserved from, a danger 
which she had hardly suspected, could devote herself 
unreservedly to the joyful prospect of belonging on 
the following day to her husband. 

The happy union, to which she had so long looked 
forward, would become an accomplished fact with the 
dawning of another day. A few more revolutions of 
the hour-hand upon the face of the great clock of the 
chateau, and she would be the wife of her. childhood’s 
friend who had become one of the emperor’s most 
gallant and distinguished officers, a colonel for whom 
was in store perhaps, such renown as Lasalle, Nansouty 
and Murat had won. Why should he not, like Lasalle, 
rise to the rank of general ? Was it impossible, indeed, 
that he should some day be a king, as Murat already 
was, as Soult had just missed being, as Bernadotte soon 
would be? A queen? And why not? Was there 
any limit to hope, or to ambition, under Napoleon ? 


132 


Henriot*s return. 


Alice, while telling herself that there was little 
probability that such dazzling dreams could ever be 
realized, reflected that the most reckless flights of the 
imagination were permissible to young women who 
married officers like Henriot. As in the old fairy 
tales, that omnipotent magician, the emperor, trans- 
formed stuff gowns into court mantles, peasants’ caps 
into coronets, and huts into palaces. As soon as he 
touched with his sceptre a miller like Lefebvre, a 
sheepfold like Catherine’s birthplace, he made of the 
miller a duke, of the sheepfold a chateau. Surely, 
that surpassed the prodigious feats of Perrault’s good 
fairies. 

And Alice added in her own mind, almost in Cath- 
erine’s words : 

“ How powerful the emperor is, and yet how kind 
of heart ! How proud one should be to serve under 
him ! How happy to be able to love him ! ” 

When the marechale , having accompanied her to 
the room where she was to pass the last night before 
her wedding, had left her to her dreams of the future, 
her mind reverted with a sensible feeling of satisfac- 
tion, in which vanity had some part, to the emperor’s 
personal attractions. Throughout that day of festivi- 
ties, how affable he had been, how attentive, almost as 
if he were in love with her ! He was said to be some- 
times so cross and testy, even brutal, with women. 
For her he had had none but soft words, and flattery 
that was pleasant to the ear. 


henriot’s return. 


133 


Alice was absorbed in this midnight reverie, stand- 
ing by the open window, waiting for Henriot to come, 
as he did every evening, to whisper a loving word to 
her before he sought his own couch. She gazed at 
the great trees in the park, which made a dark line 
across the end of the garden, broken here and there 
by diagonal rays from the lighted windows of the 
chateau. She reviewed one by one, as her eyes wan- 
dered vaguely from point to point, the trivial incidents 
of the day. She remembered, not without a touch of 
pride, that the emperor had carried his affable de- 
meanor to considerable lengths. The grand marshal 
had set forth in more precise terms what the sovereign’s 
expressive eyes seemed to hint with some reserve; 
that he thought her lovely, and that he would himself 
pay his court to her were it not that she was Henriot’s 
promised wife. 

With decidedly embarrassing plainness of speech, 
the Due de Friotil had asked her, softening the brutal- 
ity of the question with a smile, if she would consent 
to go to the emperor’s apartment that very night. His 
Majesty had so many things he was anxious to say to 
her. He was ’afraid to be seen talking with her for 
too long a time before Madame Lefebvre’s guests, who 
never removed their eyes from the emperor and any 
one with whom he happened to be conversing. Of 
course his Majesty had no other purpose than to pay 
his respects to her more freely, and to give fuller ex- 
pression to his pleasant anticipations of the time 


134 


HEN RIOT’s RETURN. 


when, as Colonel’s Henriot’s wife, she would come to 
the Tuileries or St. Cloud, to enhance the brilliancy of 
the imperial receptions with her grace and youth. 

She laughed at this extraordinary proposition, which 
she looked upon as a bit of chaff, and laughingly 
apologized for her inability to grant his Majesty the 
interview he did her the honor to request. If the 
curiosity, ever on the alert, and the suspended malig- 
nity of the onlookers found food for comment in his 
Majesty’s assiduous attentions to a young woman in 
public, to accede to his request for a private inter- 
view, would present the malicious gossips with alto- 
gether too good an opportunity. Sure of herself, pro- 
tected by her devoted affection for him who was to be 
her husband, Alice did not take Duroc’s language very 
seriously. Indeed, she did not fully understand its sig- 
nificance. Her innocent heart, her pure thoughts, did 
not go beyond mere verbal gallantry, a playful con- 
versation, filled with somewhat tasteless compliments, 
a mere momentary distraction, equally devoid of 
seriousness and danger, which the emperor wished to 
enjoy after the solemnities of the day. She had heard 
that he frequently expressed a wish to talk tete-a-tete 
with young women, and that he had many times sent 
for untitled ladies, Madame de Brignole, Madame de 
Laujay and others, as well as for the princesses of his 
own family, Queen Hortense, or the Grand Duchess 
Stdphanie, to chat with him after some tedious religious 
ceremony or diplomatic reception. 


iienriot’s return. 


135 

She did not suspect the real motive of Napoleon’s 
request for a private interview. The thoughts of the 
poor, ignorant dove did not reach the point of imagin- 
ing the lust of the eagle. 

She, in her innocence, had seen in him only the 
agreeable companion, not the lover. Perhaps it had 
never occurred to her that Napoleon could fall in love. 

And yet those were strange words that Duroc 
whispered in her ear as they left the dinner-table. 

“ Beware, mademoiselle,” he said, in a tone that was 
almost serious ; u what the emperor wants, he wants 
very badly, and he alwa} 7 s obtains it. If you do not 
come to him, as he invites you to do by my mouth, his 
Majesty is quite capable of putting himself out to- 
night to the extent of coming to you in your own 
room, when you are hlone. Now, that might cause 
scandal, and annoy his Majesty extremely. Think it 
over, mademoiselle, and be as kind as you are pretty 
— and as clever and prudent ! ” 

She laughed heartily at the grand marshal’s sugges- 
tion 1 his announcement of a nocturnal visit from Napo- 
leon in no wise alarmed her, and her reply was in a 
jocose vein. 

“ Very good, monsieur le due. I will not put my- 
self out. So you may tell his Majesty that I shall 
expect him to do me the honor of calling upon me on 
the stroke of midnight, like a hero of romance ! ” 

Thereupon Duroc saluted her and left her, to per- 
form the duties incumbent upon him as grand marshal, 


136 


HENRIOT S RETURN. 


well content with this reply, which he took to have 
been given in all seriousness. In the subsequent ex- 
citement of the fete Alice had hardly thought again of 
the suggestion of the emperor’s knocking at her door 
at midnight. 

This conversation recurred to her mind now in the 
soothing tranquillity of the silent night. She found 
that it had really made a deep impression upon her. 
She recalled certain attitudes and certain significant 
glances of the emperor. It was evident throughout 
the dinner that he did npt look at her in the same 
way as at the other guests. For her his fine eyes, 
sometimes so strangely luminous, shone with a brill- 
iancy which they had not when they were fixed upon 
Marecliale Lefebvre, for example, or Madame de 
Montesquiou. She began to guess a part of the truth. 

A modest blush overspread her face. Was it pos- 
sible that the emperor was in love with her ? Could 
he have imagined that she would be false to Henriot, 
that she would renounce his love ? 

This discovery troubled her. At the same time she 
became conscious of a novel sentiment of distrust, 
almost of disdain for this emperor, whom she had 
hitherto looked up to as one whose grandeur raised 
him far above the ignoble passions of common men. 
Napoleon in love with her elevated her not at all, and 
degraded him. 

Her whole soul revolted at the thought. The em- 
peror appeared to her imagination in a new aspect. 


henriot’s return. 


137 


It was a different sort of dread which took possession 
of her, from that he ordinarily inspired in others. 

Suppose Duroc had told the truth ? Suppose that 
this jocose suggestion of the nocturnal visit, which she 
had received with a laugh, should be followed by a 
serious attempt to carry it out ? What should she do ? 
What reply should she make ? Suppose the emperor 
should insist upon being received ? Suppose that he 
should by any chance succeed in forcing his way into 
her room, what would be the result? What she knew 
of his violent disposition, of his habit of seeing every 
obstacle smoothed away before him, justified any 
hypothesis, and might well arouse anxiety. 

The moments flew by. One by one the bands of 
light that scarred the row of trees in the park were 
blotted out in the dense darkness, which rose like a 
wall at the right and left. The last lighted room on 
the upper floors of the chateau had become dark. 
Alice alone was still awake in the. impressive silence 
of the moonless night. 

Once more she looked uneasily toward the park. 

At the same time she listened intently. It seemed 
to her that she could hear footsteps. 

With increasing dread she murmured : 

“ I believe some one is coming. Oh ! mon Dieu ! 
suppose it should be the emperor ! ” 

It would be a simple matter for any man, standing 
on the stoop, to pull himself up by the window-sill, 
and so get into her room. 


138 


henriot’s return. 


Her first impulse was to close the window, but she 
checked herself. 

“ I am mad ! ” said she. “ No one can be coming, 
no other than Henriot. How is it that he has not 
come before this? Every night, before going to his 
own room, he comes and says a few words to me, 
which give me delightful dreams, and make my sleep 
a pleasure. He should be here now. But the mare- 
chale told me that the emperor had given him a 
despatch to carry — that accounts for his being late, 
no doubt. I must wait for him. What would he 
think if he found my window closed and my lamp out 
when he returned to the chateau ? He won’t be long, 
for the marechale told me he was going only to the 
next town. How badly he would feel to find that I 
hadn’t patience to sit up for an hour thinking of him."’ 

She resolutely returned to the window, and, leaning 
upon the sill, looked out once more into the night, lis- 
tening in the silence, and peering into the darkness 
with her bright eyes. Almost laughing, and with 
much less dread, she said to herself : 

“ I was mad with my fears ! no one will come but 
Henriot — and then, if the emperor should come, why 
Henriot will be here to receive him, and I fancy that 
his Majesty isn’t likely to go without sleep for the 
sake of talking at a window with a colonel of 
hussars ! ” 

She laughed outright at that thought, and her Cour- 
age was fully restored. 


henriot’s return. 


139 


But suddenly the smile died upon her lips, and be- 
came a grimace of terror ; her fingers clutched the 
window-sill ; she tried to move, to take refuge in the 
room, but her legs trembled and gave way under her ; 
she tried to cry out, but her voice died away in her 
throat. 

She threw back her body, retaining her hold upon 
the sill. 

A man — whom she recognized with vastly in- 
creased alarm, for did he not wear the small hat and 
colonel’s uniform, the well-known every day costume 
of the monarch ? — was trying to climb in at the win- 
dow, without a word. 

She felt that she was on the point of swooning. 
The one word, “Sire!” half reproach, half lamenta- 
tion, escaped from her colorless lips. 

But the next moment her voice returned in its full 
strength. Her eyes shone, and her whole countenance, 
distorted by terror, expanded in a sudden flood of joy. 

“ Henriot ! Henriot ! ” sfie cried, joyfully. 

A stifled cry, a guttural exclamation, answered her 
call. She saw the little hat fair beneath the window, 
and the chasseur’s coat disappear. Then a confused 
dark shape glided away into the darkness, and van- 
ished. . 

Henriot stood before her pale as death, with drawn 
sword. He stood as if utterly crushed, gazing wild- 
eyed at the open window and the spot where the 
little hat and chasseur’s coat had passed from his sight. 


140 


HENRIOT’S RETURN. 


Alice, who was still intensely excited, looked at 
him, utterly unable to understand his attitude. 

“ Henriot ! my Henriot ! ” she whispered softly. 

The sound of his name seemed to arouse him from 
a dream. 

He fiercely thrust his sword back into the scabbard, 
and shaking his fist at the window where Alice stood 
awaiting him imploringly — 

“ Strupapet l” he cried. And, having by this un- 
deserved insult vented in a measure his frenzy and 
despair end the madness of his outraged love, in utter 
desperation, vaguely terrified by the thought of his 
parricidal act, for he believed that he had struck the 
emperor, Henriot plunged into the dense shadows of 
the park. His footsteps and the dark outline of his 
figure were soon lost to sight and hearing, while Alice 
fell senseless upon the floor beneath the open window. 


r 






IX. 


LOVE AND HATE. 

Among the trees bordering the terrace of the 
chateau, a score of yards from the circle of light cast 
upon the gravel by Alice’s lamp, a man was stooping 
over, feeling of his legs and his body. 

Having conscientiously completed this corporeal in- 
spection, he gave a sigh of satisfaction. 

“ Well, well ! I didn’t come off so badly after all,” 
he muttered, in English : “ no bones broken ! I 

thought that damned hussar was going to split me 
like a stick of wood when I saw his sword shining 
over my poor head, and coming down like a flail in 
the grain. Upon my word I had a lucky escape! 
He struck like a very devil, did the hussar. Ah ! it 
isn’t always funny to jflay the Emperor Napoleon in 
the provinces ! how I regret the good, noisy, old 
taverns in the city ! ” 

With that, the strange personage, who had attempted 
to carry Alice’s window by storm, clad in the chasseur 
colonel’s uniform, and wearing the little hat — the 
worthy Samuel Barker, Napoleon’s double, whom 
Maubreuil had borrowed from M. de Neipperg — be- 
ing completely reassured as to his soundness of limb 


/ 


142 


LOVE AND HATE. 


and present safety, began to whistle a jig. Then 
having looked about for a moment to get his bearings, 
he said to himself : 

“ Sword-cuts must be paid for extra — the patron 
didn’t tell me that I was to be hacked to pieces ; I’ll 
put it in my bill. But now I must get away from 
this. By God ! how thirsty I am ! the little skirmish 
dried my throat all up. I would give one of the 
twenty pounds the master promised me for a glass of 
grog, just plain whiskey — yes, for less than that — I 
would give a pound with all my heart, although it’s 
hard work, and dangerous sometimes, to earn a pound ! 
— yes, I would give a guinea for a paltry glass of ale. 
But no sign of a tavern in this damned country ! and 
it’s darker than my pocket'! ” 

He walked forward a few steps at random, then 
stopped, with a slight trembling of the legs. He 
thought that he heard footsteps. 

“ Can it be the hussar coming back? ” he thought, 
“ the hussar and his sword ? That’s not in our agree- 
ment. The best thing I can do is to take myself 
away from here as fast as possible ! ” 

Thereupon he set about finding his way in the 
darkness. He put out his hand and felt for the hedge, 
or for the trees which bordered the path. 

“ Ah ! there’s the tree where I hid my old clothes,” 
he said, as he drew near a large elm, at the foot of 
which lay a package of clothing. 

He quickly removed the chasseur’s coat and white 


LOVE AND HATE. 


143 


small clothes, and donned a long great coat with a 
cape. 

“ Here I am transformed — unrecognizable, I think,” 
he continued with an air of satisfaction; “and if it 
wasn’t too dark to see myself, I shouldn’t be able to 
identify myself with the Emperor of the French, w T ho 
just now defied the hussar’s sword- thrusts. Oh ! those 
sword-thrusts ! they made me long for the honest, in- 
offensive kicks of my former employer, the gallant 
Austrian gentleman, M. de Neipperg. But I am 
Samuel Barker once more — good old Sam, jolly Sam 
— I defy any one to pretend that I ever had the 
slightest acquaintance with the man they call Napo- 
leon. There’s all that remains of the Napoleon I 
was ! ” 

And Sam disdainfully spurned with his foot the 
uniform and the little hat which he had used to play 
the part assigned him by Maubreuil in the comedy 
with the sinister ending constructed by him. 

Sam was about to steal quietly away, but he thought 
better of it. 

“ The master,” he said, “ ordered me to be sure and 
leave the little hat somewhere in the young woman’s 
room, but I hadn’t time. The hussar’s sword pre- 
vented me. What shall I do ? ” 

Maubreuil’s unconscious accomplice reflected for an 
instant. 

“ Why was it so necessary to leave the little hat in 
that room ? I’m sure I don’t know,” he said to him- 


144 


LOVE AND HATE. 


self, in perplexity ; “ some whim of the master’s, no 
doubt. He also ordered me to throw into the pond 
somewhere here on the right — : he pointed it out to 
me — the chasseur’s uniform and white breeches. 
’Faith, I’ll throw the whole business in ; so much the 
worse for the hat ! All I have to do now is to find 
the place.” 

Picking up the garments, which complemented the 
Napoleonic illusion of his countenance, Samuel Bar- 
ker walked slowly about among the great trees, seek- 
ing the pond. After making several turns to this side 
and that, he heard the rippling of a brook which ran 
from the pond. Guided by the sound, he walked 
toward the little sheet of water, which lay in the 
centre of a vast green sward. Taking up his position 
upon a foot-bridge which spanned it at one end, he 
threw the package of clothes, weighted with a stone, 
into the water, and was quit of it, with the unbur- 
dened conscience of a servant who has done his work 
well, and earned his wages. 

“ The master bade me go to Brie-Comte-Robert, by 
the high-road,” he continued, when he was back in the 
main avenue of the park once more, “ there, so he 
said, I shall find money and a passport, at the Soleil 
d’Or. Good ! but first of hll I must get out of this 
infernal park. Ah ! I see a wall, not too high, just 
made for climbing ; now’s the time for me to recall 
the gymnastic lessons in the art of escaping, given me 
by that honorable thief, Newgate, the veteran of 
English prisons.” 










































































































HE HAD ALREADY RAISED HIS LEFT KNEE. 





LOVE AND HATE. 


145 


Sam, more and more satisfied with himself, and 
whistling his favorite jig, prepared to climb nimbly to 
the top of the wall. 

He had already raised his left knee, and grasped the 
edge of the wall with one hand, and was about to 
place his right foot upon a projecting stone, when he 
was seized from behind in a powerful grasp. He was 
conscious of being forcibly removed, or rather torn 
away from the wall, at the same time that a loud voice 
shouted : 

“ Name of names ! What the devil are you up to 
there at this hour ? ” 

Sam had rolled three or four yards away. He 
scrambled to his feet, profoundly astonished, and jab- 
bering oaths in English. 

“ Oho ! that’s your kind, is it ? ” said the same 
voice ; “ an English spy, no doubt ! Ah ! you crab ! 
I propose to see your ugly face.” 

Samuel Barker had rapidly recovered his self-pos- 
session. He held swords, lances, bayonets and all 
varieties of piercing or cutting things in general, in 
respectful awe ; but for a contest with natural weapons, 
he had no distaste. He had learned to box with the 
thieves of London, and prided himself 1 upon a certain 
amount of skill in pounding an opponent after he had 
him in chancery, that is to say, after he had his oppo- 
nent’s head under his arm, thereby securing a helpless 
surface upon which to exercise his fists. 

It was not so dark that he could not see that his 


146 


LOVE AND HATE. 


antagonist wore no sword, and furthermore that he 
was very tall, a distinct disadvantage in boxing. The 
prospect was therefore more than agreeable to him. 
He at once determined that he ought not to retreat, 
and that it would redound to his honor to accept the 
offered combat. Indeed, he could hardly decline it. 
The man who had attacked him, and so rudely caused 
him to descend from the wall, barred his passage, and 
was advancing upon him to seize him anew. 

Sam, who had broken off his jig, began to whistle 
again ; his impudence had returned to him. He settled 
himself firmly upon his legs, doubled his fists, and just 
as the man approached him with the evident intention 
of seizing him by the collar, his left arm shot out as 
if a spring had been let go, and delivered a couple of 
lusty blows upon the chest of his assailant, which 
made him stagger. 

“ Ugh ! ” he grunted. “ Name of names ! you strike 
hard, my good goddam ! But wait a bit, and I’ll teach 
you the way we box in France, the savate , or, if you 
prefer, the ckausson. Attention ! look out for your 
mouth ! Just parry that ! ” 

Turning on his heel, as he chaffed the Englishman, 
he swiftly threw out his foot, and applied the sole of 
his boot like a plaster to Samuel Barker’s mouth and 
nose. 

The blood spurted out and Sam fell to the ground 
stunned. 

“That’s what we call a face-blow, do you under- 


LOVE AND HATE. 


147 


stand?” remarked the giant, assuming a defensive 
attitude once more : “ I tapped you a little hard, per- 
haps, but I told you to look out for your head; you 
should have parried it ; and then you weren’t very 
backward with your fists, and if my strong box here 
wasn’t so solid as it is — Oh ! well, although — But 
you don’t get up ? You’re not shamming, are you ? 
Why, you don't stir! Ten thousand cartridges! are 
you seriously hurt ? ” 

He stepped quickly up to Sam, who was lying 
motionless, groaning heavily. 

He shook him, not roughly, and his voice became 
less harsh. 

“ What’s the matter ? pull yourself together ! have 
a little pluck ! ” 

“ Mercy! Pardon ! ” faltered Sam, with a groan. • 

“ You needn’t ask for mercy ; you’ve got your 
deserts. La Violette, ex-drum-major of the Grenadiers 
of the Guard, never struck an enemy when he was 
down, you know.- Come, goddam, get up ! ” 

And La Yiolette — for it was Lefebvre’s trusty 
steward who had surprised Samuel Barker in the act 
of scaling the wall, as he was making a round in the 
direction of the pavilion which he supposed to be still 
occupied by Napoleon — La Yiolette having again 
leaned over the Briton, to whom he had given in ex- 
change for his fisticuffs so impressive a lesson in the 
chausson, muttered : 

“Well, well! you surely can’t get up now; and 


148 


LOVE AND HATE. 


yet I didn’t destroy your paws, did I ? Oh well ! as I 
floored you, I’ll try to repair your front. It will 
amount to nothing. Blows on the head don’t count, 
you know ; I have received eight or nine of them my- 
self — a thrust with a lance at Eylau, a piece of a 
bursting shell at Wagram, and a cut with a knife at 
Tarragona — and I’m none the worse for them. Just 
keep quiet and I'll carry you. Oh ! I've lugged about 
many fellows who were worse off than you are ; so 
don’t be afraid, but just cling to my neck.” 

Thereupon La Yiolette, with the generosity char- 
acteristic of the French soldier, seized the unconscious 
Samuel Barker and bore him away to his own quarters. 

There, the concierge and his wife, aroused at last 
by La Yiolette’s resounding knocks, took charge of 
the Englishman. They washed his face, which was 
covered with blood, as his nose had bled profusely, 
and bandaged his swollen cheeks. 

La Yiolette superintended the dressing of the wound. 
He had examined it carefully, and had discovered 
with much pleasure that there was nothing to cause 
alarm. A violent contusion upon the face, likely to 
produce no other consequences than an enlarged nose 
and a black eye, was the only damage inflicted upon 
Samuel Barker. 

“ The damsel you were on your way to whisper 
pretty things to won’t recognize you very soon,” 
laughed La Yiolette, as Sam began to show signs of 
life again, to open his eyes and look about. 


LOVE AND HATE. 


149 


Sam spoke French very badly, but could under- 
stand it. 

Having recovered consciousness, and feeling re- 
assured by the kind treatment he was receiving, he 
began to reflect, and to wonder what explanation he 
could furnish of his presence in the park, escalading a 
wall, when his adversary, having looked to his com- 
fort, should question him. He was now being treated 
as an invalid, but when he was cured, they would look 
upon him as a prisoner. In order to obtain permission 
to leave the house and go his way, without being 
molested or followed, to the Soleil d’Or at Brie- 
Comte-Robert, where the twenty pounds awaited him, 
he must offer some plausible motive for his nocturnal 
visit to the park of Combault. The phrase let fall by 
La Yiolette he at once picked up. Was not a love 
affair the very best and most plausible explanation he 
could find ? If he could make it appear that he was 
running away from a husband whose suspicions were 
aroused, he was at once relieved from suspicion himself. 
The French are always willing to believe such tales 
and are very indulgent to lovers in dange \ 

He therefore tried to smile under the bandages 
which crossed and re-crossed one another on his face, 
and stammered, doing his best to place his finger upon 
his swollen lips in the classic attitude of the God of 
Silence : 

“ Don’t mention it — say nothing ! Jiusband ! — 
over yonder ! ” 


150 


LOVE AND HATE. 


La Yiolette laughed heartily. 

“ It’s no use for you to talk like a negro, my old 
goddam ; never fear ! I won’t betray you ! So, my 
boy, you’ve been playing your farces up at the chateau, 
have you ? You have played the deuce with the heart 
of one of madame la marechale’s maids, I'll wager ! 
Is is fat Augustine — or little Melanie?” 

Sam multiplied gestures of denial, and placed his 
finger again upon his lips, repeating : 

“ Say nothing — Husband ! Don’t mention ! ” 

“ Go to sleep, get some rest, and make your blood 
over ! ” continued La Yiolette, good-humoredly : “ I 
have told you that you have nothing to fear. Keep 
your secret and cure your phiz, for you’re in no condi- 
tion to make conquests at this moment, my good god- 
dam! You are wounded, you have laid down your 
arms, and you’re my fTrother ! you can remain here as 
long as you choose. As long as your nose looks like 
a dried pear, we’ll take good care of you. Although 
you English are very brutal, so they say, to our poor 
fellows who are moulding away in your hulks! ” 

Samuel Barker made a deprecatory gesture to indi- 
cate that he was entirely innocent of what took place 
in those atrocious dens. 

La Yiolette assured him once more of his safety, 
then, buttoning his military great coat, went out to 
resume and finish his interrupted round before retir- 
ing. 

While Samuel Barker, taken by surprise by Hen- 


LOVE AND HATE. 


151 


riot’s sudden attack, was making his escape, and just 
at the moment when, having cast the imperial costume 
into the pond, and having undertaken to scale the 
wall of the park, he received from La Yiolette, in 
reply to his skilfully directed blows with his fist, the 
solid coup de chausson full in his face, which was 
destined to change his physiognomy for a long time to 
come, and take away its Napoleonic cast — this is 
what took place at the point where the Queue-en-Brie 
road intersected the roads from Emerainville and Com- 
bault. 

A bare-headed man, breathless, as if he had been 
running a long distance, with disheveled apparel, 
gesticulating wildly and uttering disconnected words, 
interspersed with sobs, like a lunatic escaped from an 
asylum, halted beside the stone, on which there were 
set forth divers distances and directions. That seemed 
to be the objective point of his nocturnal wandering; 
and there, violently unhooking the military coat he 
wore, he convulsively tore open his shirt, and drew 
the sword which clashed against his legs. Grasping 
the weapon by the blade, he thrust the hilt into the 
ground, and bending back, as if to secure an impetus, 
without releasing his hold of the blade, he prepared to 
throw himself, breast foremost, upon the point. 

Suddenly the sword fell from his hand ; at the same 
moment an arm was thrown about the man who was 
on the point of taking his own life, and forced him to 
fall back. 


152 


LOVE AND HATE. 


“ Who are you ? ” he demanded furiously, “ to pre- 
sume to stay my hand ? ” 

“ Who am I ? — a friend ! ” replied a well-modulated 
voice. 

“You hardly show your friendliness at this moment. 
Whoever you are, go your way, and leave me to- do 
what I am determined to do ! ” 

“ Colonel Henriot, abstain from such a mad, foolish 
act!” 

“ You know me ? ” demanded Alice’s unhappy lover, 
for it was he. When he saw the man, whom, deceived 
by the costume and features, he had taken for Napo- 
leon, leaving the maiden’s room, he fled across the 
fields like a maniac. 

“ I know you, and I am here to prevent you from 
killing yourself.” 

“ What are you doing? By what right do you un- 
dertake to prevent a poor wretch from putting an end 
to an existence henceforth purposeless and miserable ? 
You do not know how irresistible fatality and un- 
speakable despair impel me to this course.” 

“ Perhaps I am better informed than you think as 
to the reasons which lead you to commit an irremedi- 
able piece of idiocy. I am a friend, Colonel Henriot, 
although a stranger to you. I am the Comte de Mau- 
breuil. I have the honor of a very slight acquaint- 
ance with the Duchesse de Dantzig, and it was she 
who sent me after you. I left her less than an hour 
ago,” 


LOVE AND HATE. 


153 


“The duchess cannot understand my conduct. I 
have been shamefully treated, and life is unendurable 
to me. If you have any humanity, do not delay the 
hour of deliverance and oblivion which is about to 
strike for me. Thanks, Comte de Maubreuil, for your 
well-meant intervention, but you can do nothing for 
me : go your way, and permit me to put an end to my 
agony.” 

“ It will be time enough for me to leave you after 
you have listened to me,” rejoined Maubreuil in his 
most persuasive tones. “ I, too, know what treachery 
is, and grief no less ; but, my word for it, no one ever 
repents having postponed for a few moments the exe- 
cution of a deadly resolution like this of yours. If 
you are still of the same mind when you have heard 
what I have to say, I give you my word that I will 
not hold your arm again, — I will go away at once ; but 
I hope to remain, or, rather, to continue my journey in 
your company, after I have spoken.” 

“ Say on ; but do not expect to induce me to aban- 
don my plan. I also propose that you shall hear me, 
and then you can judge if death will not be a blessed 
thing to me, — the only means of escape from a terri- 
ble maze, in which I have, madly and to my own de- 
struction, involved myself ! ” 

“Very well! Let us sit down upon this stone, and 
talk like two old friends, like brothers, Colonel Hen- 
riot, for I feel irresistibly attracted to you, and I am 
eager to save you, in the first place ? and then to help 
you to avenge yourself ! ” 


154 


LOVE AND HATE. 


“ To avenge myself ! ” cried Henriot in a changed 
tone, as if clutching at a hope that had just dawned 
upon him. “ Yes, you are right,” he continued, more 
dejectedly than ever, “ vengeance bids us live ; it gives 
one the strength to endure many wounds ; it is what 
gives a man mortally wounded the power to rise and 
sufficient momentary energy to grasp his pistol, while 
he leans upon his elbow and holds in one hand his pro- 
truding entrails, take aim, shoot down his foe, and fall 
back dead beside him. But even vengeance is impossi- 
ble for me ; and there is nothing for me to do but die 
at once ! ” 

“ Who knows ? ” said Maubreuil, gravely. “ Come 
and sit down here, I tell you,” he added, with an air 
of authority, taking Henriot by the arm, “and open 
your heart to me ! ” 

They sat down side by side ujdoii the mile-stone, and 
Henriot made his confession. It was a terrible blow 
for him when he recognized Napoleon in front of 
Alice’s window. When Maubreuil interrupted him at 
the very beginning, and asked him hypocritically if 
he was quite certain that he recognized the emperor, 
for mistakes are always possible at night, and lovers 
often have bad eyes, Henriot stoutly maintained that 
he could not be mistaken. It was impossible for him 
to retain a shadow of doubt that it was the emperor 
whom he had seen. 

For what purpose was his sovereign there at mid- 
night, at the window where Alice was standing, if 


LOVE AND HATE. 


155 


not with designs upon her virtue ? It mattered little 
whether he entered the room or took flight. Perhaps 
she had been his mistress for a long while. Alice had 
cried out, too, when he had come running up, over- 
joyed that his mission had been cut short, and hoping 
to obtain a glance at her window if nothing more. Ah ! 
what blindness on his part, what cunning roguery on 
hers ! Could it be that so much perfidy and vice were 
hidden under such an appearance of sincerity? He 
could not even yet believe in her treachery. And yet 
he had seen, really seen. And could he doubt ? Ah, 
what an idiot he had been ! 

His first feeling was fierce wrath. He had rushed 
upon his rival, waving his sword. He forgot the em- 
peror then, and saw only a man who was stealing his 
Alice away from him ; an assassin who was murdering 
his happiness. 

He struck ! His aim was bad, of course, and the 
weapon simply grazed the villain’s coat. He seemed 
to remember that his rival fled ; but the whole trans- 
action was dancing around in his brain, like the ghastly 
shapes one sees in a nightmare. The only thing of 
which he was sure was that he did not kill. 

Thereupon, in obedience to an impulse of which he 
was hardly conscious, he fled madly across the fields. 
At last in his feverish race he reached the cross-roads 
and the mile-stone, and determined that there should 
end his flight and his life. 

During his mad flight one definite resolution — to 


156 


LOVE AND HATE. 


die — stood out clearly amid the hurly-burly of rage 
and despair which enveloped him. 

He stopped at intervals and tried to reason. Ah! 
the situation of affairs was perfectly clear, and his mis- 
ery appeared to him in its whole heartrending extent. 
Alice had deceived him : then, of course, she did not 
love him ! Therefore she had lied to him again and 
again ! All their childish companionship, the memory 
of which was so dear to him ; Alice’s emotion on meet- 
ing him again at Berlin, after Jena ; the blissful antici- 
pation, since her return from Prussia with Madame 
Lefebvre, of the union which had taken place between 
their hearts long before the law and the church were 
to receive their oaths : the smiles which were lavished 
upon him, the soft words, the delightful plans, the 
hopes and the dreams they had so fondly formed and 
exchanged up to that fatal night, — all this was noth- 
ing but delusion, falsehood, deceit and smoke. 

So Alice loved another! And what other! The 
only man on earth to whom no one could be a rival ; 
the emperor! Was it possible? Had Alice been 
seduced by the glory, the omnipotence, and the re- 
splendent majesty of the emperor? It might be so. 
How many women, before her, had yielded to the 
master’s ascendancy, how many others would yield to 
it in the future, for it certainly was nothing more than 
a passing whim, an ephemeral desire on the emperor’s 
part; lie would simply pluck her in passing, like a 
tempting flower by the roadside, and would soon toss 


LOVE AND HATE. 


157 


her away again, even before her freshness had withered 
or her youth faded away. It was easy to understand 
that Alice might yield to such a temptation. But 
could she not have resisted ? Sometimes a woman re- 
jected the emperor’s advances ; such things had been 
known, and nothing more was necessary than that the 
woman should have a real love in her heart ; then she 
was strong, yes, invincible. 

“ But Alice never loved me ! ” he said again and 
again, with rage and anguish tearing at his heart. 
“ She could but yield ! ” 

With that he would rush on again through the 
darkness, with increased agitation, cogitating strange 
schemes, forming plans that were impossible of execu- 
tion. 

Again he would stop to recover his breath, and 
would peer vaguely into the dense darkness, as if he 
were seeking a favorable spot to carry out a resolution 
which was still but vaguely outlined in his mind ; he 
would once more pass the facts of the case in review 
one by one, and string them together with the thread 
of his despair. He would then tell the beads of that 
sorrow-laden rosary, enumerating all, even the most 
trivial, details of that terrible night. Ah ! he under- 
stood it all now ! Slight indications, which had 
escaped him at the time, now came to his mind in a 
curiously exaggerated form. For instance, he remem- 
bered that at the marshal’s state dinner, when he 
looked at Alice, and from a distauce tried to convey 


158 


LOVE AND HATE. 


to her by the medium of his eyes, his love, his impatience 
to be by her side, his intense weariness of the re- 
splendent throng, which erected a wall of uniforms, 
silk, embroidery and diamonds between her and him- 
self, he could not catch her eye. Alice was looking 
intently at the emperor. It was quite excusable. The 
emperor was so great, so magnificent, and his presence 
so engrossing! But .the emperor also had his eyes 
fixed upon Alice ; at that time he had taken no notice 
of it — when the sad truth is revealed to us, any vague 
feeling of distrust or jealousy we may have had seems 
much stronger than it really was — he could understand 
now that exchange of glances. Although it was pos- 
sible that a young woman might be fascinated by 
Napoleon’s gaze, there was no possibility that the em- 
peror was dazzled in Alice’s presence. If, therefore, 
he gazed at her even as Henriot himself did, an im- 
patient lover; if he kept his blazing eyes fixed upon 
her whichever way she turned, it could only be because 
there was some secret understanding, some concert of 
action between them ! 

He understood now certain ironical glances, and 
could explain the too exuberant compliments of gen- 
erals and courtiers, who congratulated him upon his 
good fortune with a persistence to which he paid no 
attention at the time, lauding to the skies the charms 
of -his fiancee, who could not fail, so said these im- 
pertinent flatterers, to create a sensation at the recep- 
tion at the Tuileries, to which she would certainly be 


LOVE AND HATE. 


159 


bidden. These sycophants were not in the secret, but 
they guessed, they saw, perhaps ! This thought ■ — 
that his misfortune was perhaps anticipated, and al 
most made public beforehand — tormented him beyond 
measure. 

He marshalled the results of his mental inquiry. 
He thought that he detected the motive for entrusting 
to him the mission to the War Department, which was 
a mere subterfuge, of course, as it had been counter- 
manded almost immediately, and a man sent in hot 
haste after him to bring him back. The scheme was 
to have him out of the way long enough for the inter- 
view to take place ; but he had returned too soon ! 

He was inclined to curse his rash haste which had 
led him to surprise the emperor, as he was escaping 
from Alice’s room in consequence of the cry she uttered 
at his approach. He experienced the heart breaking 
sensation caused by the vision of the flesh which one 
lias loved and coveted, but respected, becoming the 
prey, the plaything of another. If, he thought, he 
had had the good luck to return less hastily and had 
given his dreaded rival time to disappear, he would 
still be in ignorance, would still be happy perhaps. 

But no, it was much better that he had surprised 
her in her treachery. He would surely have dis- 
covered the truth sooner or later. It was better as it 
was. Taken in the very fact, Alice could not dream 
of denying her guilt. Nor had she sought to do so. 
The blow was a crushing one, but would it not have 


160 


LOVE AND HATE. 


been much worse if he had learned the next day, or a 
week or a month later, that the woman he had married 
was Napoleon’s mistress? He might possibly have 
been susjDected of an infamous bargain. Yes, chance 
had served him well by bringing him under Alice’s 
window in time. It was one of those lover’s whims 
which cannot be satisfactorily explained. He v as al- 
most sure that he should find Alice’s shutters closed 
and the lights all extinguished, but he would go around 
that way on the possibility that she was awake. The 
mere sight of the structure in which the loved one is 
sweetly sleeping is a joy to a lover, and how many 
men, with no hope of a smile or a look from the 
balcony, have lifted up their voice in secret, silent 
serenade, beneath the inexorably closed window. 

Yes, he had done well to come — he knew — he 
had the proof! There was no room for doubt, nor 
for reparation! Alice was lost to him forever, and 
the refrain ascended in tragic monotony from his heart 
to his lips ; he must die ! 

Maubreuil listened in silence to the confession, in- 
terrupted by sobs and groans, which he had succeeded 
in wresting from Ilcnriot. He smiled cynically in the 
darkness, the perfidious counsellor! for his machina- 
tions had succeeded. Henriot’s first moment of excite- 
ment had passed. When one’s suffering becomes less 
acute, one begins to feel impelled to talk of it. Words 
tend to soothe the pa n. With words, the frenzy of 
despair, which may lead to self-destruction, passes 


LOVE AND HATE. 


161 


away. There was no further danger of a sudden ex* 
plosion. Henriot belonged to him. He could guide 
at will the overflowing rage to which Alice’s treachery 
had given rise. Like a skilful lock-keeper he had his 
hand upon the lever which raises or lowers the gate, 
letting the water escape, or holding it back. Henriot 
would do whatever he, Maubreuil, chose; he. had led 
him to the point which he had fixed upon in his own 
mind. Love betrayed, self-esteem wounded, all the 
noble and trustful sentiments of the young soldier per- 
verted and condemned ; he was like a ship-wrecked 
sailor, tossed about upon a disabled raft, who clutches 
convulsively at the line which is thrown to him, at 
hazard, in the darkness. Maubreuil was preparing to 
throw the line. Would the castaway seize it, or would 
he, lost beyond redemption, let it run through his lifeless 
fingers, weary of the strife, and lacking the strength 
to care to preserve his wretched existence ? 

But there was still another factor, namely, Henriot’s 
conviction that he had made an assault upon the em- 
peror, and was henceforth beyond the pale of the law, 
with no hope of pardon, with no possible place of 
refuge, with no one to lean upon, reduced to the neces- 
sity of flying and lying in concealment, constrained to 
leave the army and renounce society — this, in con- 
junction with the practical certainty that he could find 
repose nowhere else than in the grave, might place the 
drowning wretch, bound body and soul, in his power. 

With circumspection, but without attempting to 


162 


love And hate. 


soften the facts of the case, Maubreuil, having labored 
to convince the young man that the man was mad who 
condemned himself to death to punish a woman for 
her infidelity, a sin of such frequent occurrence, ap- 
proached what was in his eyes the most serious matter 
— Napoleon’s wrath. He did not conceal his opinion 
that Henriot was in great danger. Napoleon would 
never forgive an officer in his army who had raised 
his sword upon him. It was a crime which would be 
deemed deserving of the most condign punishment. 
There would be no question of facing a platoon of 
soldiers. They would avoid the noise and scandal in- 
separable from such a course as that. Devoted police 
officials, always ready for any deed of darkness, would 
lay hold of him at night. , Thejr would send him away 
under a strong guard to some out-of-the-way fortress, 
to lie Sainte Marguerite, for example, or lie d’Aix. 
And there he would remain, shrouded in utter dark- 
ness. No one would ever hear his name again. He 
would be struck off the list of living men. His com- 
plaints would be stifled by the thick walls ; if he 
sought to cut his way out by killing a jailor, he would 
be put to death in darkness and silence. Did he wish 
to afford Napoleon the satisfaction of having betrayed 
a young girl, betrothed to one of his officers, of hav- 
ing broken the friendly compact which should exist 
between him and one of the most devoted of his ser- 
vants, and of punishing the maD he had so cruelly 
outraged, the loyal soldier, whose life he had not 


LOVE AND HATE. 


163 


scrupled to ruin ? He might sell dearly his blighted 
existence, very true ! But would it not be a cowardly 
tiling to disappear thus without being avenged, if not 
upon Alice, who had yielded doubtless to a stern im- 
perial behest, to the irresistible pressure of the supreme 
will — if not upon her, at all events upon the man 
who had stolen his wife from him, and left him for 
the future naught but shame if he pocketed the insult, 
imprisonment if he rebelled against the treachery, 
suicide if he gave way to grief and despair. 

“ A strong, brave man would not act as you think 
of acting, Colonel Ilenriot ! ” concluded the tempter, 
assuming a stern, reproachful tone. 

“ What would you do in my place ? ” asked Henriot, 
weakly yielding to the stronger will. 

“ 1 have told you ; I would have my revenge ! ” 

“ But can I ? One can hardly take vengeance upon 
Napoleon.” 

“ Indeed, yes — if one really wishes to do so.” 

“ Assume that I wish it.” 

“ You must put some energy into your wish.” 

1 will be energetic enough ! ” exclaimed Henriot 
resolutely. 

The human heart is a prison in which all the hues 
of passion come to the surface, one after another, in a 
chromatic revolution. The black rays of suicide gave 
place to the red gleam of vengeance. Gradually 
Henriot felt the blood beginning to flow again through 
his veins. He had found a motive for living, and his 


164 


LOVE AND HATfi. 


course was not to end in the ditch beside the high 
road. Although his suffering was as keen as ever, 
existence seemed endurable to him with vengeance at 
the end. Maubreuil’s words exhibited his destiny to 
him in a new light. Yes, Napoleon had betrayed 
him ; without consideration for his services, with no 
reluctance to tarnish the purity of a virgin soul like 
Alice’s, throwing all delicacy and all pretence of self- 
restraint to the winds, he had seduced, outraged, de- 
bauched the woman he loved, and who was to be his 
wife. Perhaps the poor child was not so guilty as 
she seemed. Who could say to what an aggregation 
of promises, falsehoods, flatteries, and threats mayhap, 
she had succumbed ? 

Little by little Henriot put aside his wrath against 
Alice, and armed himself with a fresh supply of hatred 
for Napoleon. 

Maubreuil watched this gradual displacement of the 
passions, which he had anticipated, and upon which 
he had based his calculations, as a mechanic, sure of 
the accuracy of his counter-weights and springs, leans 
over his machine, waiting for the movement he has 
ordained. At present he was no longer doubtful of 
success. The evolutions of Henriot’s heart corre- 
sponded with his calculations. The young man was 
in his hands, resigned, almost docile, and ready to 
obey passively, — “ Let a dagger, a pistol, a phial of 
poison be placed in his harid, and then give the man 
now a mere tool, his head — the dagger, the pistol 


LOVE AND HATE. 


165 


the poison will go straight to the mark, and perhaps, 
if luck is with us, we shall be rid of you, Napoleon ! ” 
said Maubreuil to himself, triumphantly ; and he 
added, with his villianous smile : “ Samuel Barker 
played his part well, I see, and M. de Neipperg will 
have no reason to repent having loaned me that useful 
blackguard ! ” 

Thus it was, with the certainty of victory near 
at hand, that he picked up the word that fell from 
Henriot’s trembling lips, that he would not lack en- 

er gy- 

u Energy is not of itself enough,” he said, slowly. 
“ The man who seeks revenge must have, in addition 
to a stout heart, a well-tempered will which will not 
snap at the critical moment like a piece of poor steel; 
in short, you must have a definite, well-conceived me- 
thodical plan. What do you propose to do, my young 
friend ? ” 

“ I will listen to you and obey you. Do you advise 
me ; — whatever you say I will do. I wish to be re- 
venged upon Napoleon, that’s all ! ” 

“ That’s very sensible in you, and I approve. But 
I should be a scoundrel if I encouraged you in any 
such design without pointing out the obstacles. You 
are still acting under the pressure of legitimate indig- 
nation, and have no thought for any obstacle whatever. 
Your mind acts quickly and leaps over them. But I 
am calmer, and haven’t the same reasons for precipita- 
tion. I divine the dangers of the enterprise ; I see 


166 


LOVE AND HATE. 


the wall which confronts you at the outset, blocking 
your path, and hiding the goal you wish to attain.” 

“ To one who hates as I do, who thirsts for ven- 
geance as I do, no obstacle is impassable, no danger 
sufficient to hinder the will from reaching the point to 
which it is determined to lead one. I have sacrificed 
my life. Count, except for you, for the hope you 
have lighted in my heart like a beacon-light, which 
will guide me henceforth in my wanderings, I should 
be lying there in the road with my sword through my 
body. To him who is resolved to exchange life for 
life, his foe, whoever he may be, belongs ! Every 
man whose mind is made up to strike is sure of success 
if he looks always before him, not behind ; if he aban- 
dons all thought of flight or safety, and all hope.” 

“Napoleon is well guarded, — you would find it a 
difficult matter to approach him to-day. Do you sup- 
pose anything more would be needed to prevent this 
hand-to-hand combat which you desire, than to give 
your name to Rovigo’s police, and send your descrip- 
tion to all the officials, all the gendarmes , all the agents 
of the empire ? Believe me, my young friend, a 
tyrant like Napoleon is not to be attacked face to face 
in broad daylight, but behind his back and in the 
shadow. Therefore, abandon your chivalrous idea of 
offering your blood as a sacrifice. Do not seek to gain 
access to your enemy ; rather avoid him, and bide your 
time ! ” 

“ T cannot wait ; my blood is boiling, and my burn- 
ing hatred thirsts for vengeance.” 


LOVE AND HATE. 


167 


“ I don’t bid you abandon your design, but 1 advise 
you to consider more coolly what penalty you wish to 
inflict upon the man who has dealt you such a cruel 
blow.” 

“What must I do ? Have you a plan ? It may be 
that you, too, have it in mind to strike the man down ? 
Oh ! it matters little whether he be struck in the face 
or in the back ! He wounded me in the darkness, and 
he didn’t show his face when he stole my Alice. He 
crept in at night, like a thief, and I fell into a cow- 
ardly trap. Speak, count ; I am in your hands, I be- 
long to you.” 

“Very good! You must know that there are a 
hundred or so gallant fellows who, like yourself, are 
animated by an intense longing to put Napoleon out 
of the way. Although not a personal matter like 
yours, their hatred is no less bitter and enduring. 
They are mostly malcontents : among them are old 
republicans, unconverted Jacobins, or those whom Na- 
poleon has neglected to bribe with a barony, a seat in 
the senate, or a round sum in hard cash ; there are 
also philosophers, who dream of a federation of Euro- 
pean nations like that which unites the American 
States, and with them sincere royalists, like your hum- 
ble servant ; for I have no reason to conceal from you 
the motive for my detestation of Napoleon, and my 
longing to see the end of his terrible dictatorship. I 
desire the restoration of his Majesty the King of 
France to the throne of his ancestors. There are but 


168 


LOVE AND HATE. 


three of us who have at this moment that fixed pur- 
pose, and a conviction that success is near at hand : 
M. de Vitrolles, M. de Neipperg and myself.” 

“ I care nothing for politics,” rejoined Henriot, has- 
tily. “ Up to this moment I have served Napoleon 
faithfully ; and I have had little time, I confess, be- 
tween battles, to consider whether his power is legiti- 
mate or no, or whether his manner of exercising it 
is harmful or beneficial. So don’t talk to me of the 
ideas and projects of Napoleon’s enemies; I have 
nothing in common with them. I am a man seeking 
to be revenged upon another man — that’s the whole 
story ! ” 

“ And so I understand it ! ” rejoined Maubreuil, 
with some uneasiness, fearful lest this heart, which 
was accessible to vengeance, but revolted at the sug- 
gestion of treason, might after all escape him. “ What 
I tell you of our secret societies, which have already 
on several occasions shown their strength and their 
audacity in the face of Napoleon’s minions, I tell you 
simply that you may know where to find friends and 
comrades, who will in case of need, give you shelter, 
advise you, and allow you to carry out — alone, if you 
choose — your bold plan. Nothing more.” 

“ I accept their support, if that is what you mean.” 

“ You will retain your freedom of action with the 
Philadelphians — that is the name Napoleon’s enemies 
have assumed. As I just told you, all varieties of 
opinion are admitted in their counsels. There is a 


LOVE AND HATE. 


169 


common bond between them, hatred of Napoleon, and 
all of them are aiming for the same result, the disap- 
pearance of the tyrant ! ” 

“Where can I meet these Philadelphians ? ” 

“Death, imprisonment and exile have made sad 
havoc in their ranks. One of their principal leaders 
was Colonel Oudet.” 

“ I knew him. He was a handsome, prompt, brill- 
iant officer. He was said to be very fond of women.” 

“It was his way of disguising the gravity of his 
plans. He was killed at Wagram in an ambuscade, 
so they say. Since his death General Malet is the 
chief of the Philadelphians, the centre of all those who 
are involved in the struggle against Napoleon, and 
from whom all the hatred and vengeance send out 
their fierce flames toward the throne at the Tuileries.” 

“ I will call upon General Malet,” said Iienriot, 
resolutely. “ Where can I see him ? ” 

“ Go to Doctor Dubuisson’s private hospital.” 

“ Where ? ” 

“ In Faubourg Saint- Antoine near the Barriere du 
Trone.” 

“ Very well. But how can I get in ? ” 

“ Doctor Dubuisson is not a jailor. The general is 
allowed certain privileges. He may receive visits. 
But Rovigo keeps watch on the doors. You must be 
careful not to arouse the suspicion of his agents, who 
spy upon and follow all who call on the general.” 

“ How will Malet receive me ? He is a prisoner, 


170 


LOVE AND HATE. 


he has conspired before, and has been betrayed. 
What will give him confidence in me ? ” 

‘‘You will say when you present yourself : ‘ I come 
from Rome, and wish to go to Sparta.’ ” 

“ Is that the countersign ? ’ 

“ Yes. Don’t forget it.” 

“ Isn’t it the point of departure of my revenge ? 
Trust me not to forget it. But do not you belong to 
the Philadelphians, Comte de Maubreuil ? ” 

“ My heart is with them. But the conspirators, I 
tell you frankly, have always destroyed my confidence 
in these conspiracies. They talk much and do 'ex- 
tremely little in their confabulations. And their in- 
fernal prattle never ceases until some untrustworthy 
ear catches the echo of it, whereupon the police appear 
and send everybody off to prison. There is good stuff 
among the Philadelphians, I admit. But their leader. 
General Malet, indulges in cogitations which are too 
extraordinary for me. He is waiting for the outbreak 
of war to give the signal for the rising which he is 
planning ; he relies upon an Austrian or Russian 
bullet to make an end of the emperor. But there’s a 
better, surer way than that ! To lay the tyrant low, a 
man is better than a cannon. So long as the only 
hope in Malet’s direction lay in artillery, I saw but 
little chance of his success ; but now I am more con- 
fident, almost certain that he will succeed.” 

“ Why so, count ? ” 

“ Because, more fortunate than Diogenes, and that, 


LOVE AND HATE. 


171 


too, without a lantern, but in some measure by my 
assistance, he has found a man.” 

“ Who, pray ? ” 

“ You ! ” 

Henriot seized Maubreuil’s hand and pressed it 
warmly. 

“ I will be the man upon whom you rely ! The 
Philadelphians shall find in me the weapon they need ; 
I swear it ! Now I long to live ; yes, to live for my 
revenge ! Count, what must I do to-night — to-mor- 
row ? When will it be time for me to act? I put 
myself in your hands, like a child.” 

“ So be it ! come ! It will soon be daylight, and 
the t roads will no longer be safe for conspirators. 
Follow me to the next town; there you will find 
civilian clothes, and there we will part.” 

“ When I leave you, I will go to Doctor Dubuisson’s 
hospital. But when shall I see you again ? ” 

“ When it is necessary ; on the day you have your 
revenge ! ” 

“ That will be soon. Ah ! count, I am very un- 
happy ! ” 

Henriot’s nerves, unable to endure any longer the 
terrible nervous strain, relaxed, and he followed the 
tempter, weeping profusely. 

Maubreuil, fully satisfied with his work, muttered 
as he watched the dawn whiten the distant tree-tops : 

“ At last that dreamer Malet is to have what he lacks 
— . a stout dagger grasped by a strong hand ! ” 


X. 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 

W ilna — in Russian, Vilno — the former capital of 
Lithuania, where once stood the temple of the Jupiter 
Tonans of the Scandinavian Olympus, was making 
holiday, and the windows in the Cathedral of Saint- 
JStanislas were rattling with the roar of cannon. 

Upon the site of the pagan altar where the Christ- 
ian basilica triumphantly reared aloft its two Byzan- 
tine towers, the hardy Norman seamen assembled in 
the old days to invoke the fierce divinity who wielded 
the thunderbolt and turned the tide of battle. Then 
they cast off their narrow vessels and sailed away into 
the fog and the unknown, their swan-like prows turned 
toward the wealthy cities of the west, toward the 
monasteries stored with gold and silver plate, and the 
villages surrounded by fertile fields, which lay open to 
pillage between the mouths of the river Seine and the 
wooden bridge of Paris, a city of fabulous wealth and 
a tempting prey to the bold Northmen. 

From Wilna, the holy city, communes, tribes, na- 
tions, borne on like waves by a mysterious and power- 
ful current, spread over the west, and beat even 


ON the; road to destruction. 


173 


against the walls of Paris, which were heroically de- 
fended by Count Eudes and Bishop Gozlin, assisted 
by the bourgeoisie and the common people. Then 
these human tidal waves, leaving some alluvium be- 
hind, flowed back, their ebb being no less extraordi- 
nary and irresistible than their flood, to their starting 
point, to the marshes, the fiords, the low shores and 
mist-enshrouded archipelagos of the northern seas. 

It seemed that these far-off oceans of human beings 
were constantly kept in motion by some hidden power, 
and that a fatal restlessness was to lead them back 
once more to those -western shores, where once the 
sons of Odin, clad in the skins of wild beasts, had 
buried the prows of their war-ships in the sand, and 
planted their lances. 

From Wilna fresh hordes were soon to descend 
upon Central Europe and roll their tumultuous billows 
as far as the foot of the towers of ISTotre-Dame. 

The roar of artillery, to which the bells of Saint- 
Stanislas played a rhythmical accompaniment, the 
beating of drums, the shrill blare of trumpets, and the 
clashing of swords, muskets, lances, bows and quivers 
striking against one another as a body of armed men 
marched past, gave to the little bourgeois town, rich 
in libraries, museums and gymnasia, an animated and 
martial aspect. 

Over the castle floated the standard of the czars. 

From an early hour in the morning the people had 
thronged from the St. Petersburg road to the cathe- 


174 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


dral ; in every conceivable position, sitting upon stools, 
clinging to ladders, glued to the windows, perched 
upon the lamp-posts, and hanging in clusters to the 
iron gates of the castle, the peace-loving inhabitants 
were doing their utmost to obtain a good view at as 
close quarters as possible of His Majesty Alexander 
I., Emperor of all the Russias, making his solemn 
entry into his fair city of Wilna. 

A little before noon the czar appeared, surrounded 
by a brilliant staff. Among the officers composing it 
the bystanders pointed out Prince Kotchoubey, Minis- 
ter of the Interior ; Ballaclioff, Minister of Police, the 
most important of all the great functionaries of the 
empire ; Count Tolstoi, Grand Marshal of the Palace ; 
M. de Menchode, Envoy Extraordinary to the Em 
peror of the French, lately returned from his mission. 
Did he bring back with him peace or war ? as yet no 
one knew. Behind these exalted personages rode the 
German general, Pfuhl, an eminent tactician, preced- 
ing a party of generals, famous in different directions, 
and whom the populace honored with ovations of vary- 
ing degrees of cordiality. There was Barclay de 
Tolly, once a Lithuanian shepherd, now a general, a 
consummate strategist, but advanced in years and little 
esteemed ; there was Beningsen, the general who was 
worsted in the last Polish war ; there w r as Prince 
Bagration, commander-in chief of the Army of the 
Dnieper; and, lastly, old Koutousoff, who was beaten 
by Napoleon at Austerlitz, and justified himself there- 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


175 


for by proving that his opinion, that the battle should 
not be accepted until the arrival of Archduke Charles, 
was entirely disregarded. 

The acclamations of the crowd redoubled in fervor 
w r hen Koutousoff appeared. He was looked upon as 
the disciple and legitimate successor of the famous 
Souwaroff. He was credited with the knowledge of 
many marvellous secrets in the art of strategic war- 
fare, and reaped the benefit of the great unpopularity 
of the German Barclay de Tolly. 

A little behind the party of general officers, talking 
together, with smiling faces, of things of little moment, 
exchanging comments upon the Lithuanians who stood 
in serried ranks all along the route of the imperial 
procession, discussing the latest Parisian fashions, 
perhaps, or “ Atala,” M. de Chateaubriand’s touching 
romance, rode three individuals of more refined and 
polished appearance than the majority of the function- 
aries and officers who composed this semi-barbarian 
escort. 

These three cavaliers, who immediately preceded 
the troops, were Count Armsfeld, the Swedish ambas- 
sador, confidential agent of the traitor Bernadotte, 
Prince Rostopchine, Governor of Moscow, and Comte 
de Neipperg, secret envoy of Austria. 

These three men, of distinguished mien, who 
pranced along behind Alexander’s generals, talking 
with smiling faces of indifferent subjects, were destined 
to have an equally deplorable influence upon the des- 


176 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


tiny of France. They were the men who dug the 
grave of the Grande Armee. In the city of Odin, the 
ancient city of the ravens, they were the ill-omened 
birds who were to tear the first feathers from the 
wounded eagle. 

After the religious service at the cathedral, the em- 
peror repaired to the castle, and received the deputa- 
tions of the notables and landed proprietors of Wilna. 

During the reception a special courier was an- 
nounced. 

Alexander, surprised by the arrival of this unex- 
pected messenger, suspended the reception, and or- 
dered that he be ushered in at once. 

His name was Dividoff, and he was one of the 
principal secretaries of the Russian embassy at Paris. 
He was sent by the ambassador to inform the czar of 
a painful incident that had taken place at Paris. 

M. Czernicheff, who had been sent to France upon 
a special mission, and was received and treated by 
Napoleon with great friendliness, took advantage of 
his connections in high administrative circles, and of 
the lamentable and culpable complaisance with which 
he was allowed free access to the departments, to cor- 
rupt an employe of the Ministry of War, and to pro- 
cure from him, by a direct bribe, very important docu- 
ments concerning the condition of certain posts, the 
equipment and organization of the army, and also the 
probable points of attack in case of a war with Russia. 
Unluckily, M. Czernicheff had allowed a letter con- 




'Ll 



pm*#* i jv'-tp'i 

W<T 

Mi 




3'|W> 

* .■ /( 

rg, s %v. 

' iilmr M* M 

W; 


“ SIRE, 


MARSHAL DAVOUT, WHO COMMANDS THE FIRST CORPS. 
ALREADY IX THE FIELD.” 


IS 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


177 


taining the traitor’s name, and very precise information 
concerning his culpable acts, to fall into the hands of 
the police. One of the servants of the Russian em- 
bassy, who had acted as go-between, was in prison, 
and Prince Kourakin, the ambassador, had fruitlessly 
invoked the privileges attached to his post in support 
of his demand for his servant’s release. 

Under these circumstances M. Dividoff was de- 
spatched for the special purpose of explaining the sit- 
uation to the czar. Napoleon was in a furious rage, 
and was firmly convinced that Russia, while multiplying 
her envoys and her assurances that she desired peace, 
was secretly preparing for war, and seeking to throw 
the responsibility upon him in the eyes of Europe and 
of posterity. The discovery of the Czernicheff intrigue 
had caused him to hasten the mobilization of his 
troops. 

“ Sire, Marshal Davout, who commands the first 
corps, is already in the field,” added Dividoff. 

“ Have you seen him ? ” demanded the emperor, 
hastily. 

“ With my own eyes, at Elbing, on this side the 
Vistula, which is the frontier of Prussia.” 

“ How many men ? ” 

“ Marshal Davout, sire, had under his orders when 
I fell in with him, on my way to St. Petersburg as 
fast as horses would carry me and the roads allow, 
the divisions of Morand, Friant, Gudin, Desaix and 
Compans — in all, some 65,000 men.” 


178 


ON THfi ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


“ And men like those who compose the divisions of 
Morand and Friant, commanded by the Prince of 
Eckmuhl ! ” said Alexander, pensively. 

He added at once, with a proud gleam in his eye : 

“ ’Tis war then ! The Prince of Eckmuhl, having 
led his troops from the Oder to the Vistula, is march- 
ing towards the Niemen ; the Russian frontier will 
soon be crossed. Yes, it is war ! I expected it ; I am 
prepared for it, and Russia will find me ready to meet 
and sustain, with God’s help, the terrible shock which 
your tidings make certain. Thanks, monsieur, for the 
information you bring ; it is most valuable. As for 
the seizure of the important documents which Colonel 
Czernicheff adroitly obtained possession of at Paris, 
you need have no fear : the seizure was delayed, fort- 
unately. I have those inestimable documents ; they 
will assist me to understand the confidential minutes 
you bring from our trusty ambassador, Prince Kou- 
rakin.” 

Having thus complimented M. Dividoff, the czar 
immediately summoned the generals who composed his 
staff, and the ministers who had come to Wilna in 
attendance upon him. 

Somewhat surprised by this sudden summons, which 
interrupted receptions and parties, the ministers and 
generals attended this improvised council of war, ex- 
changing suspicious glances as they took their places. 
In Russia, where the sovereign’s caprice is omnipotent, 
the highest functionaries are never out of reach of 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


179 


disgrace, soon followed by a decree of banishment, 
and great was the rivalry among the generals. Each 
one in his own mind accused his colleagues of having 
slandered him to his master, and thus paved the way 
for his dismissal. 

Alexander made known the news brought by Divi- 
doff. Davout’s corps was in motion, and was march- 
ing across East Prussia toward Russia, In a few 
weeks, perhaps earlier, the Niemen would be crossed, 
and Russian territory would see for the first time the 
redoubtable soldiers of Napoleon enter upon its vast 
expanse, hitherto unacquainted with invasion. They 
might look upon war as already declared. It was no 
longer possible to entertain illusory hopes of peace. 
All must make ready for an obstinate struggle, and the 
next treaty of peace would be concluded — either upon 
the battle-field after Russia had been disastrously 
beaten and irretrievably crushed, or at Paris ! 

“ Yes ! yes ! at Paris ! ” cried the generals enthu- 
siastically, putting their hands to their swords, ready 
to take any oath that might be required of them. 

Alexander I. was a youthful monarch, but he was 
capable of forming well-matured plans, and possessed 
the imperturbable sang-froid of an old diplomat. He 
left the noisy enthusiasm of his officers to take its 
natural course, and was soon deep in thought. 

The news of Davout’s forward movement hardly 
surprised him. He had long looked forward to this 
war, and it can fairly be said that he Pad sought it, 


180 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


provoked it, and rendered it, so to speak, necessary, 
almost inevitable. Had he not loudly demanded the 
evacuation of Prussia by the French? What more 
could he have demanded of a vanquished France? 
Although Napoleon in the eyes of posterity is bur- 
dened with the responsibility of a foolhardy challenge 
to the colossus of the North, and while we agree that, 
intoxicated as he was by the strong wine of glory 
which he had drained from every goblet in Europe, 
impelled by the rage for conquest and gain, not unlike 
the madness of the inveterate gambler, who risks his 
winnings and his credit upon one last card, he relied 
overmuch upon his own strength — it is certain that 
Alexander had long expected this terrible duel, and 
that he had expended his energy in making prepara- 
tions and arming in the light of the conflict he fore- 
saw and did nothing to prevent. 

At Tilsit and at Erfurt, in those pompous parades 
of dazzling splendor, he did undoubtedly manifest the 
deepest admiration for Napoleon. He was sincere 
then, no doubt, was the young emperor, and his 
eulogistic excitement had not the spurious ring of 
mere lip service. His enthusiasm, exhibited publicly 
on several occasions, for his renowned host of the raft 
in the Niemen, and the palace at Berlin, never seemed 
like mere comedy intended to deceive. But while he 
really admired the great and victorious soldier, while 
he seemed proud and happy at his close friendship 
with him, and enchanted to be treated as an equal bv 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


181 


the mighty French Caesar, as his associate in the par- 
tition of the world, Napoleon to have the West and 
Alexander the East, his Slavic temperament was 
affected by envy as .well as by admiration. The 
higher Napoleon towered above all other men, the 
more eagerly he longed to pull him down and crush 
him. At the same time that his pride was satisfied 
by- being received upon an equal footing by Napo- 
leon, a different sentiment found a lodgment in the 
young czar’s heart. . He said to himself that if Napo- 
leon were overthrown, vanquished, proscribed, slain, 
his power would be destroyed, the prestige of his glory 
would vanish for a long while, perhaps forever, in 
France, and that the emperor’s fall would be speedily 
followed by the collapse of that valiant and formidable 
nation, which represented the Revolution, which ex- 
hibited its impiety or its lack of faith in its every act, 
and which, after proscribing the ministers of its religion 
and overturning the altars, did not scruple to cut off 
the head of a king, of Louis NVL, its legitimate 
master. 

And Alexander also said to himself that it was his 
prerogative to be the great dispenser .of God’s justice 
in his time. He would chastise the French for their 
revolt against their sovereign, he would wash away 
the revolutionary stain in the blood of battles, and 
from Napoleon, who was simply a Robespierre, wield- 
ing more power and causing greater terror than the 
man of the guillotine, the true butcher of Europe, a 


182 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION* 


regicide in his way, striking down sovereigns with 
artillery, and waving aloft, from the banks of the 
Tagus to those of the Niemen, his tricolored flag which 
was identical with that of the Jacobins — from Napo- 
leon he would take, if God lent strength to his arms, 
his immense power, a veritable outrage upon those 
monarchs who held their crowns from God, and a 
perpetual menace to every throne. 

At the same time that he dreamed of becoming the 
arbiter of the world, the king of kings of Europe — 
for who could pretend to rival him if he should over- 
throw Napoleon ? — he was conscious of something 
like a feeling of family resentment. Napoleon, when 
he determined to procure a divorce from Josephine in 
order to marry a princess capable of presenting him 
with an heir, had almost caused it to be made known 
officially that an alliance with Russia would meet his 
views. The Grand-Duchess Anna, Alexander’s sister, 
was even advised of Napoleon’s intentions, and the 
Russian marriage was looked upon as definitely settled, 
when Napoleon suddenly broke off the negotiations, 
alleging a question of religious rites as a pretext, and 
seeming to take fright at the idea of the introduction 
of a Greek priest and the Greek liturgy at the Tuil- 
eries. Immediately thereafter he hastily determined 
upon and concluded his marriage with the Archduchess 
of Austria. 

All these diverse considerations had modified Alex- 
ander’s state of mind with regard to Napoleon. He 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


183 


still admired him, and for that very reason was the 
more ardently desirous to overcome him. At a later 
date he hated him with a bitter hatred, and trampled 
upon him when he was lying in the dust. 

In addition to the advantageous position he occu- 
pied, and the enormous force at his disposal, he ex- 
pected to be considerably benefited by the evident 
weariness of the French nation, worn out by twenty 
years of fighting ; he reckoned likewise upon the 
secret but certain hostility of the petty kings and 
princelings whose possessions Napoleon had absorbed 
in his empire, whose feeble rays were blotted out by 
the brilliant blaze of his glory. 

He was in possession of details concerning these 
moral forces, as precise and accurate as those collected 
by M. Czernicheff concerning the state of the French 
armies in exchange for a small sum paid to a clerk at 
the Ministry of War. 

Thus it will be seen that he had not lightly formed 

the resolution to fight, and declined to entertain 

the latest propositions submitted to him by Napoleon 

through M. de Narbonne and M. de Lauriston. But, 
© 

on the point of engaging in such a formidable conflict, 
something very like fear took possession of him ; his 
adversary was so strong, so renowned, so accustomed 
to victory, and wherever he went he led a whole na- 
tion, who knew not what retreat was ! Victory, with 
wings outspread, seemed to hover over the French 
vanguard. Hence the thoughtful air with which he 


184 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


welcomed the explosion of patriotic enthusiasm of the 
generals, and hence the fit of abstraction which suc- 
ceeded it. 

When he broke the silence, which no one else dared 
break, it was to ask the officers assembled in council 
if they had any plan to submit to him, any project to 
bring forward for discussion, and wdiat tactics they 
w r ould advise him to follow by way of rejoinder to 
Davout’s advance upon the Niemen. 

General Barclay de Tolly first set forth his ideas. 
He advised against waiting until Napoleon should be 
present in person. At present they had to do only 
with the Prince of Eckmiihl, and they must cut him 
off and annihilate his force before he was joined by 
Ney or Victor. Napoleon’s immense army was scat- 
tered through Spain, Holland, Prussia and Italy ; it 
was of the uttnost importance that he be not given 
time to unite all these different fragments, and a de- 
cisive battle should be fought after concentrating all 
the troops between the Vistula and the Oder. 

These were the tactics ordinarily employed by Na- 
poleon. They had assured his victory at Austerlitz as 
at Wagram. The secret of his genius as a soldier 
consisted in pushing forward, in attacking detached 
bodies of the enemy with superior forces, in prevent 
ing their junction, and falling upon a second fragment 
immediately after defeating the first, always making 
the most of the enthusiasm and confidence resulting 
from victory to overwhelm a weakened and demoral- 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


185 


ized adversary. “ Napoleon must be fought with 
Napoleon’s weapons ” ; such was Barclay de Tolly’s 
conclusion : “ through being beaten by him w r e have 
learned how battles should be won. Let us show him 
that, if he is a skilful teacher, we are not unapt 
scholars ! ” 

Prince Bagration, the German Pfulil, and General 
Beningsen coincided with their colleague. All advised 
a forward movement; time must not be given Napo- 
leon to organize, Davout must be surprised and driven 
back, the Grand-Duchy of Warsaw invaded, then 
Prussia, and all bodies of troops they might fall in 
with must be fought one after another. They would 
then have to do no more than round out their victory 
when Marshal Ney arrived with his troops from May- 
ence and the Rhine ; Prince Eugene, who would have 
a much longer distance to cover with the forces under 
his command — from Lombardy — would be obliged to 
surrender without a battle. As the war with the 
Turks was at an end, setting free the army of the 
Danube under Admiral Tchikackoif and the army of 
Volhynia under General Tormasoff, they could march 
by Lembey and Warsaw upon the flank of the various 
defeated bodies of French troops and complete their 
demolition. After that nothing could arrest the pro- 
gress of the Russian army, encouraged by its succes- 
sive victories, and if they should fall in with Napoleon 
near Dresden or Leipsic they would attack him with 
vastly superior forces, and at last he would surely be 
beaten. 


186 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


This plan captivated Alexander at first. It agreed 
admirably with the audacious schemes he loved, and a 
rapid forward movement could not fail to attract a 
young emperor, impatient to win renown and thirsty 
for revenge. The possibility of vanquishing Napoleon 
by employing his own tactics, by falling upon isolated 
bodies of troops one after another, flattered his self- 
esteem ; the vision of a complete destruction of the 
French army, and perhaps of a triumphal march upon 
Paris across reconquered Germany, made possible by 
the presence of the Armies of the Danube and Vol- 
hynia, charmed his oriental imagination. 

He thanked and congratulated his generals, post- 
poning until he should have received precise informa- 
tion as to the position of certain French forces, and as 
to the mobilization of the Prince of Eckmuhl’s corps, 
his final decision as to the plan to be adopted. 

He noticed, however, that a single one among his 
officers had not spoken. 

“ Have you nothing to say, prince ? ” he asked 
Koutousoff. “ Have you no plan to propose, or do 
you simply coincide with the views that have been ex- 
pressed ? ” 

The old general shook his head and gloomily replied, 
with a significant shrug : 

“ When the trumpet has already sounded, and the 
sword is half out of the scabbard it’s an invidious 
thing for one to interrupt the blast, and to thrust back 
the sword, temporarily at least.” 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


187 


“ Pray, is that what you advise ? ” demanded 
Alexander, hastily: “peace, humiliation. You are 
afraid of Napoleon ! ” 

“ I might dread a struggle with Napoleon, and still 
be no coward, sire,” rejoined the old warrior, deeply 
hurt. “ I have listened in silence while my young 
colleagues talked of invading the grand duchy, march- 
ing across Prussia, yes, even of riding through Ger- 
many to the French frontier, and perhaps of reaching 
Paris itself. Those are all idle dreams ! I do not say 
that they may not be realized, but not at present; 
later ; — when Napoleon has been thoroughly whipped, 
for such a thing is possible ; but only if we do not 
rush madly forth to meet him, do not throw ourselves 
into the snare, always spread, of his genius and his in- 
comparable audacity, which fortune has hitherto un- 
failingly rewarded — ” 

“ A Latin poet said that, I think, general,” Alexan- 
der interposed with a slight smile, as he thought: 
“ the honest old dotard ! ” 

“ Another poet has said, a French fabulist,” re- 
torted Koutousoff, quickly, “ that you must not sell 
the skin of a living bear. Napoleon is still upon his 
feet ; you picture him as lying in the dust, but for the 
moment he is still victorious and the most formidable 
and successful general on earth. At the mere men- 
tion. of his name whole armies fly, and cities open their 
gates... Your fate will depend on the issue' of one bat- 
tle if you go out to meet Napoleon. I am not the first 


188 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


to see and realize what I say ; I have turned what I 
have seen to good account, and I earnestly wish, sire, 
that everybody were as thoroughly persuaded as my- 
self.” 

“ Who has been giving lessons to such an eminent 
strategist, I pray to know ? ” demanded the czar, 
ironically. 

“ An Austrian diplomatist, who is also a general, — 
the Comte de Neipperg. 1 beg your Majesty to send 
for him and question him ; he will then unfold his 
plan, which I admire and fully approve. It is the one 
I should most certainly adopt should your Majesty do 
me the honor to confide to me the command in-chief of 
your armies, and the responsibility for the welfare of 
Russia ! ” said the old warrior with deep gravity, his 
words and his attitude causing great surprise in the 
minds of all those present at this momentous council. 

At this point a great shouting arose from the crowd 
in the streets. The report that war was declared and 
that the French would soon reach the Niemen had 
quickly circulated after the arrival of the special 
courier. 

“ Long live our father the Czar ! Down with Bar- 
clay ! Long live Koutousoff ! Koutousoff for com- 
mander-in chief ! ” 

This was what the populace was shouting under the 
windows of- the palace where the emperor was holding 
his council. The popular demand for the appointment 
of Kouteusoff to the chief command, made a deep im- 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


189 


pression upon him. The unshaken firmness with 
which Souwaroff’s disciple had counselled awaiting 
Napoleon's coming, and had remonstrated against 
rashly advancing to meet him, led him to inquire more 
closely into Koutousoff’s plan before coming to a 
definite decision. 

“ I will talk with M. de Neipperg,” said he ; “I 
know him to be very well informed upon European 
affairs ; he has already given me some very interest- 
ing hints, in a memorial he handed me, concerning the 
state of public feeling in France, and the attitude of 
the Austrian court toward the dangerous son-in-law of 
our dear brother Francis ; but I was not aware that 
his diplomatic talents were conjoined with proficiency 
in the art of war. Upon your advice, general, I will 
take counsel with M. de Neipperg, and will afterward 
submit his plan to the judgment of all of you, gentle- 
men,” concluded Alexander, rising to declare the 
council at an end. 

“ Send also for Count Armsfeld, the Swede, sire, 
and for Count Rostopchine,” said Koutousoff as he 
withdrew ; “ they are all agreed as to the danger in 
going to meet Napoleon, and as to the advantage to be 
gained by waiting.” 

Alexander at once summoned the three gentlemen 
mentioned by the old general. He repeated to them 
the question he had laid before the council of generals, 
asking M. de Neipperg for his opinion first of all. 

M. de Neipperg, after thanking the emperor for the 


190 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


implied compliment, described the plan he had con- 
ceived, and of which Koutousoff had given a general 
outline. 

Far from favoring a forward movement, it was M. 
de Neipperg’s opinion, formed after free consultation 
with Armsfeld and Rostopchine, that the true policy 
was to fall back, to fall back constantly as Napoleon 
advanced, and to leave the country a desert before and 
behind him and on all sides — leading him on into the 
heart of the vast empire, where he and his army would 
be at last utterly annihilated. Not by a single blow, 
amid the smoke and confusion of a great battle, was 
his power to be destroyed, but they must leave it to 
crumble away, and tear from him bit by bit the sceptre 
won in countless battles. They must avoid general 
engagements with the utmost care, and wage a war of 
skirmishes — regiment by regiment, company by com- 
pany, man by man, they would devour his army ; — 
like a troop of wolves, which allow the main body of 
the flock to pass and pounces upon the stragglers, they 
would gnaw away at his magnificent army corps. The 
same tactics that Spain had so heroically resorted to 
with signal success, they would venture upon with 
their Cossacks. Was not Platoff, their hetman, at 
hand, ready to undertake this war of strategy, of sur- 
prises, of sudden irruptions, of sudden flight followed 
by rapid and . unexpected return — a war. of birds of 
prey, hovering overhead, darting down upon their 
victims to tear them limb from limb, disappearing in 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


191 


space when they stirred and gave signs of resisting, to 
return soon and harry them once more when they 
were weaker and less able to resist. Thus the Par- 
tisans and Scythians defended themselves when mak- 
ing an attack, a cloud of mosquitoes at war with the 
lion. The lances of the Cossacks would be the stings 
of these mosquitoes ; the lion, bleeding and powerless, 
would turn back, covered with shame and wounded 
unto death ; glory lay in final success and did not de- 
pend upon the means of attaining it. Russian terri- 
tory was to be defended by retreat, and by leaving a 
vast solitude behind. The thing to be done was, 
figuratively speaking, to dig an immense ditch in front 
of the Grande Armee ; it would fall headlong therein, 
and would extricate itself from one of the tombs of 
snow only to stumble and bury itself in the next. 
Russian territory would defend itself. Its boundless, 
impregnable steppes, against which Napoleon’s cannon 
and his genius would be alike powerless, would swal- 
low up the French to the last man, if they persisted in 
refusing to retreat. 

Neipperg developed in detail this sardonic, terrible 
plan, inspired by his hatred for Napoleen. 

The czar, impressed by the arguments upon which it 
was based, gave a tacit approval to his ideas. Then 
he turned to Armsfeld and questioned him. 

The Swedish agent supported Neipperg’s plan. Re- 
treat, yes, flight was as glorious as a forward move- 
ment, if victory was to be the result. They could 


192 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


then return over the route they had traversed, and 
escort the French beyond the Niemen, beyond the 
Oder, beyond the Rhine perhaps ! 

M. d’Armsf eld added that his Majesty could rely 
upon the assistance of Sweden. Bernadotte, true to 
his agreement with Russia, had detached himself alto- 
gether from the French cause. To emphasize his 
rupture with Napoleon he had demanded the cession 
of Norway, then held by Denmark, and had declined 
to accept Finland, which Napoleon offered him to the 
detriment of Russia. He had also demanded a sub- 
sidy of twenty millions. Napoleon, as Bernadotte 
anticipated, refused to accept these conditions, so that 
the Swedish prince would definitely ally himself with 
Russia, and would agree to follow the fortunes of his 
new friends to the end, and to fight against Napoleon 
until the final victory was achieved. 

Alexander listened with great satisfaction to Arms- 
feld’s remarks. Bernadotte’s prestige as a soldier 
was very great in Russia ; his capabilities in that di- 
rection were constantly and inordinately lauded by 
friendly tongues at his instigation. He claimed to be 
the equal of Napoleon, insinuated that he was mainly 
responsible for Napoleon's victories, and that he was 
the only soldier in Europe capable of defeating him. 
The prestige of Napoleon’s lieutenants was so great 
at this time that all Russia and Sweden put explicit 
faith in the gasconading of the traitorous former mar- 
shal of the empire. This jealous and intriguing per- 


















































































“i 


















. 

































• f 



•? - 

■* ' 









































































“ VERY 


AY FLL, 


O ENTLEM ' 
CONCUR 


X ” RETURNED THE 
WITH YOUR IDEAS.” 


ZAR, 


a 


I FULLY 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


193 


son was as yet only Prince Royal of Sweden ; by 
making liimself useful to Russia and betraying his em- 
peror, who had made him a marshal and Prince of 
Ponte-Corvo, and had lavished dignities and money 
upon him, he counted upon receiving the crown as the 
reward of his perfidy. Judas often receives more 
than thirty pieces of silver. 

“'Well, gentlemen,” said the czar, “in view of the 
remarks of M. d’Armsfeld, and his very important 
tidings, I fully concur in your ideas. I adopt M. de 
Neipperg’s plan, which is as simple and grand as it is 
unexpected. We will listen to our illustrious old 
servitor, Koutousoff, and will commit its execution to 
him. It is understood that we will fallback as the 
French advance; we will give them full liberty to 
cross the frontier and lose themselves in our empire ; 
everywhere the inhabitants will give place to the in- 
vaders ! ” 

Suddenly Alexander paused. An objection of great 
weight doubtless presented itself to his clear-sighted 
mind. He at once laid it before his three advisers. 

“ But, gentlemen,” said he, with animation, “ the 
French, if we give them free access, if we fight only 
when it is impossible to avoid it, will eventually reach 
the large cities, where supplies are stored in consider- 
able quantities, and where the people, who are 
wealthier and of more sedentary habits than those of 
the villages, will perhaps refuse to abandon their 
homes and the treasures collected therein. What 


194 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


shall we do if Napoleon succeeds in reaching Moscow ? 
Shall we not dispute with him the possession of the 
treasure, the provisions, the wealth of all sorts and 
the overflowing storehouses contained in that vener- 
able capital ? Is it your opinion that we should con- 
tinue to retreat beyond that point, and allow the in- 
vader to enter Moscow through open gates ? ” 

The third of his hearers, Count Rostopchine, who 
had not as yet opened his mouth, coughed slightly as 
if to . attract the czar’s attention, and remarked in a 
pleasant voice : 

“ As governor of Moscow, I should be glad to 
answer.” 

“ Count Fedor Rostopchine, we will gladly listen 
to you,” said Alexander, affably. 

The governor of Moscow was a man of culture and 
refinement and of strong literary tastes. He was at 
this time forty-seven years old. An officer of repute, 
having served under the famous Souwaroff, and gentle- 
man of the chamber and confidential friend of the 
Czar Paul, he Iiad declined to accept any dignity from 
Alexander, after his master’s assassination. He devoted 
himself, in his retirement, to history and letters. He 
was far superior in intellect and in culture to the 
Russians, half-men, half-bears, among whom he lived, 
and of whom he used jocosely to say : “ I am com- 
pelled to agree with a certain Englishman who de- 
clared, speaking of the Russians, that one had but to 
cut through their coats to feel the fur.” 


ON THE} ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


195 


Alexander, upon receiving news of Napoleon’s ap- 
proach, at the urgent request of Countess Potassof, a 
kinswoman of Rostopchine and a friend of the Grand 
Duchess Anne, had appealed to his patriotism : he 
had entrusted to him the defence of Moscow, the holy 
city of the empire. 

The governor, in his aristocratic voice, at once 
availed himself of the emperor’s permission to speak. 

“ Your Majesty is anxious concerning the fate of 
Moscow, if the enemy come within sight of its walls ? 
I beg your Majesty to rely upon me ! Napoleon will 
find naught but danger and humiliation in the city 
which is entrusted to my keeping. Rather than aban- 
don to him the supplies, the ammunition, the property 
of every description with which the city, its store- 
houses, its private houses are filled, rather than see 
hiria replenish his magazines in the bazars, and seek 
shelter behind the sacred ramparts of the Kremlin I 
will myself blow up those venerated walls ! In order 
to compel the people to abandon their perishable 
wealth, and to follow the army, I will have recourse, 
if necessary, to force, to compel this sacrifice to the 
fatherland and the emperor. I will compel them to 
retire with us, even to the mouths of the Volga, or be- 
yond the inaccessible peaks of the Caucasus, or to the 
snow-covered Siberian solitudes ! Yes, to assist in 
the execution of this most admirable plan, this plan of 
salvation to which your Majesty has given your appro- 
bation, by the grace of God and with the permission 


196 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


of your council, sure of the approbation of every man 
who has a Russian heart, counting upon the admira- 
tion of future generations, claiming in anticipation the 
absolution of history, I will follow the example of the 
heroic defenders of Sagonte : without remorse as 
without faltering, I do solemnly swear, here in the 
emperor’s presence, that rather than see Napoleon and 
his troops swaggering through the streets of the holy 
city, and finding comfort and plenty there, 1, Ros top- 
chine, will burn Moscow to the ground ! ” 

This awful threat, this barbarian system of defence, 
was put forth in a smooth, even voice, as if it were a 
simple statement of fact uttered composedly in a 
friendly talk. Neipperg and Armsfeld .could not re- 
press a start as they heard his conclusion. Patriotism 
gone mad shone in his wavering eyes, which were of a 
dull bluish-gray, like a cat’s. 

Alexander was once more absorbed in thought. 
His head was bent forward, and his eyes could not be 
seen through the half-closed lids. His whole body 
was as motionless as if frozen stiff. One would have 
said that he had fallen asleep in his chair during the 
discussion. 

Slowly he raised his head, and his eyes shone with 
animation. 

“ And so, governor, you propose to fight the French 
with fire? ” he asked, turning to Rostopchine. 

“With fire and cold, sire. As Koutousoff’s lieu- 
tenants, his superiors it may be, you will have two in- 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


197 


vincible generals to repel the enemy, and defend the 
sacred soil of Russia : General Conflagration and 
General Winter ; is it not so, Monsieur d’Armsfeld ? ” 

The Swede, to whom Rostopchine appealed, replied 
at once: 

“You might add a third general quite as formid- 
able. When we have enticed Napoleon into the 
plains which General Winter will render untenable, 
when we have driven him away from the sheltering 
walls of the cities by General Conflagration, he and 
his men will infallibly succumb, under the blows of a 
third foe, General F amine ! Sire, we have naught to 
fear ; if you follow the plan M. de Neipperg, Count 
Rostopchine and myself have had the honor of laying 
before you, Russia will be the grave of this Grande 
Armee , which is rashly marching toward her frontier. 
The French may cross the Niemen, very few of them 
will recross it ! ” 

“They will need Charon’s skiff, for the Niemen 
will be far more difficult for them to cross on their re- 
turn than the Acheron,” said Rostopchine, with a 
smile. He was a devoted admirer of the poets of the 
eighteenth century, who were held in honor at the 
court of Catherine II., and was very fond of mytho- 
logical allusions. 

“ I accept the favorable omen,” said Alexander ; 
“but, gentlemen, notwithstanding the forcible argu- 
ments you lay before me, I cannot rid myself of one 
source of doubt and anxiety. I believe that the plan 


198 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


you set forth so clearly is certain of success ! — a sin* 
gle consideration deters me : you say nothing of Napo- 
leon ! You forget the marvellous genius of that extra- 
ordinary man ; in himself alone he is a whole army ; 
wherever he goes, victory follows like a well-trained 
dog, and strikes down armies, sovereigns, whole na- 
tions. He is quite capable of maintaining the struggle 
single-handed against your General Famine, Arms- 
feld, against your Generals Winter and Conflagration, 
Rostopchine. To contend against him, against him 
personally, we need another general, stronger than all 
three, and him we have not.” 

“ The general your Majesty mentions exists,” inter- 
posed Neipperg. 

“ Indeed — his name ? ” 

“ Death ! ” 

Alexander started back, almost with a shudder, in 
surprise. 

“ But Napoleon is in very good health,” he said, 
“ according to the latest news from Paris and Dres- 
den. There can be nothing to justify you, Comte de 
Neipperg, in assigning that somewhat depressing ally 
a position in our line of defence.” 

“ Sire, my own latest information gives me the right 
to anticipate the probable intervention of that ally.” 

“ What is the basis of } r our anticipation ? ” 

“ Your Majesty is aware that for a long time re- 
doubtable secret societies have existed in the heart of 
the French empire, intriguing, enlisting recruits, and 
preparing sudden outbreaks.” 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


199 


“ Yes, I know, the Jacobins — ” 

“ Those detestable survivors of the infamous Revo- 
lution are by no means the only instigators of plots 
against Napoleon, sire. All parties have furnished 
recruits to a wide-spread organization known as the 
Philadelphians, whose members are mostly drawn 
from the army. General Moreau, from his place of 
retirement in the United States, has promised them 
his support. Another general, a republican, ill-re- 
warded for his services, embittered by his wrongs, and 
now undergoing imprisonment — General Malet — is 
the present leader of this formidable underground 
army, in whose ranks are enrolled malcontents of 
every stripe, partisans of the legitimate king, faithful 
Catholics, indignant at. the ill-treatment of the vener- 
able pontiff, now a prisoner at Fontainebleau. They, 
sire, may prove to be more valuable auxiliaries than 
those of whom my friends M. d’Armsfeld and Count 
Rostopchine spoke.” 

“ But is this really a serious conspiracy ? Is it 
nearly ripe ? Does this General Malet, whose name I 
now hear for the first time, represent any real force ? ” 

“ Private advices which I have received from a 
Frenchman who is very bitter against Napoleon, and 
deeply attached to his legitimate prince — his name is 
M. d’Orvault, Comte de Maubreuil — enable me to 
say to your Majesty, although General Malet is very 
circumspect and reveals his plans' to nobody, that he 
will not fail to take advantage of Napoleon’s absence. 


200 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


While Napoleon, cut off from communication with 
France, is plunging deeper and deeper into the snows 
of your vast empire, Malet and his friends will take up 
arms and give the signal for revolt.” 

“ It is a bold scheme,” said Alexander, thoughtfully. 

“ General Malet is a man of rare tenacity of pur- 
pose,” rejoined Neipperg, encouraged by a gesture of 
the czar. “ Once before, in the month of June, 1808, 
he tried to arouse the French nation, and abolish the 
empire. Napoleon was absent, detained at Bayonne, 
by the affairs of Spain. Malet, at the head of a com- 
mittee sitting at Paris, Rue Bourg-l’Abbe, conceived 
the scheme of spreading the report that Napoleon had 
met his death in Egypt, and with the aid of a senatus- 
consultum, forged by him, proclaiming the dethrone- 
ment of the imperial family and the establishment of a 
provisional government, composed of men of varying 
opinions, but no extremists , Senators Garat, Destutt 
de Tracy and Lambrecht, General Moreau, Carnot the 
former director, and Malet himself, who was not over- 
looked. General Lafayette was appointed command- 
ant of the National Guard, Massena commander-in- 
chief.” 

“ I have heard of that affair,” said the czar. “ The 
conspiracy fell through. The news of Napoleon’s 
death was too easily proved false. Success was im- 
possible, for -Bayonne is not-far from Paris.” 

“-Russia is -much more distant and more enveloped 
in mystery than Spain. If Malet should renew his 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


201 


attempt during this campaign, I think that his chances 
of success would be very considerable. It may happen, 
too, that one of the conspirators, availing himself of 
the inevitable confusion attendant upon a war so far 
from home, will succeed in gaining access to Napoleon 
and giving reality to the report of the death of your 
adversary, the tyrant of France and Europe.” 

Alexander rose abruptly from his seat. 

“ The lives of princes,” he said gravely, “ as well 
as the welfare of nations, are in the hand of God. 
Let us not be so impious, gentlemen, as to assume to 
give direction to the designs of Providence. The Em- 
peror NapoleOn is, as is every living thing, subject to 
the call of death ; but it is not for us to encourage or 
to lend our countenance to the dark plots of those 
who seek to hasten destiny and anticipate the mys- 
terious decrees of the Almighty. Gentlemen, I thank 
you for your information and advice ; I will confer 
with General Koutousoff and the other generals. 
Keep our secret, and may God protect Russia ! ” 

The wheel of fate was turning. Napoleon, the per- 
petual victor, was to make acquaintance with defeat. 
The simple but terrible plan of campaign, conceived 
by Neipperg, Rostopchine and Armsfeld, which con- 
sisted in constantly falling back as Napoleon advanced, 
and in fighting the immortal Grande Ar me e with cold, 
famine and fire — a plan for which several persons 
claimed the credit after its successful issue— - was soon 
to be put in execution. 


202 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


On the 23d of June, 1812, having lain the preceding 
night in a hut in the forest of Wilkowisk, Napoleon 
appeared on the shore of the Nieinen, just above the 
town of Kowno, at a place called Poniemoff. 

General Haxo joined the emperor, by command of 
the latter, and they crossed the river together in a 
small boat. 

Napoleon had put aside his traditional redingote, 
and the little hat, and wore the cloak and the shapska 
of a Polish lancer. 

Thus disguised, lest the enemy’s scouts should 
recognize and attack him, he walked across the fields, 
glass in hand. It was as if he were taking peaceable 
possession of the empire of the c sars. 

He was escorted across the ri /er by a second boat, 
manned by sappers. The sappers disembarked. In 
the distance a small party of mounted men were seen 
galloping through the fields. It was a Cossack patrol. 
The officer in command rode forward, and asked in 
German : 

“ Who are you ? ” 

“ Sappers of General Eble’s force,” replied the 
lieutenant. 

“ Why have you come upon Russian' soil ? ” the 
officer thereupon demanded in French. 

“ To make war upon you ! ” 

■ “ Be damned to you ! ” retorted the- Russian, and 
discharged his pistol at the boat. The sappers re- 
turned his fire. The Cossack and his men disappeared 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


203 


in the forest, and there was no further sound, either of 
horses or weapons. 

The emperor mounted a horse which had been 
brought across the river. The beast made a misstep 
and fell upon the bank. 

“ An evil omen ! ” muttered General Haxo. 

Napoleon shrugged his shoulders and rode off at 
random toward the forest. He climbed to the top 
of a small eminence, put his glass to his eyes, and 
scanned the surrounding country. lie was looking 
for Alexander’s army** for his tents and the horses of 
the Russians. He saw nothing but the forest on one 
side, and on the other the plain stretching away as far 
as the eye could reach. The forest dark and silent, 
the plain scorched and deserted. Not a sound could 
be heard. 

Suddenly the emperor pricked up his ears. His 
face lighted up. He thought that he heard the roar 
of artillery. But it was simply a heavy storm rum- 
bling in the distance. Directing his glass to another 
sjiot upon the horizon, he thought that he could dis- 
tinguish in the gathering shades of night the smoke of 
a camp-fire. Doubtless Alexander’s army was in camp 
there : in that case the battle would surely come off 
cn the morrow ! and his face shone with satisfaction 
and hope. But when he looked more closely the 
camp-fires seemed to be suspiciously active. It was 
ndt long before he detected their real nature. What 
he saw was the smoke and flame of a burning village, 


204 


ON THE ROAI) TO DESTRUCTION. 


the first on the road, to which the inhabitants had set 
fire as they fled. Rostopchine was understood and 
obeyed. 

On all sides solitude, empty space, the unknown : 
on all sides silence and darkness, with here and there 
a sudden burst of flame. 

The fatal plan was followed to the letter. The 
Russian army vanished as a cloud vanishes below the 
horizon ; it melted away in the monotonous, gray line 
of the melancholy, limitless plain. The vast expanse 
was destined to exert a fatal fascination upon the 
Grande Armee. It, too, would be seen to melt away 
and vanish in the treacherous crucible of those bound- 
less steppes. The earth would drink up that hair- 
million of men as the sand of the desert the streams 
that appear but to disappear. 

The Russian troops, the very inhabitants seemed to 
be en^a^ed in a chaotic retreat ; but the three ill- “ 
omened leaders, who were to change this apparent 
panic into a victorious rally — Cold, Hunger, Fire — 
would soon assume the offensive. 

Napoleon, as if he had already caught a glimpse of 
the terrible scenes to be enacted, and foresaw the 
horrifying result, rode back to the river at a foot pace, 
with a thoughtful frown upon his brow. 

But on the following day, June 24, 1812, the mag- 
nificent spectacle presented to his view banished the 
gloomy presentiments of the preceding night. 

At three o’clock in the morning, over three bridges 


ON THE ROAD TO DESTRUCTION. 


205 


thrown across the river during the night by the volti- 
geurs of Morand’s division and Eble's pontoniers , 
began the majestic passage of the Niemen by that 
great army of six hundred thousand men, of whom a 
mere handful, as Armsfeld had predicted, were destined 
to return to the other shore. 

The Niemen crossed, the Russian empire lay before 
Napoleon and his gallant troops like a flaring funnel — 
the humiliation of defeat, the pangs of cold and hun- 
ger, the terrors that assailed them in the cities they 
captured, and the painful return march through the 
snow-covered cemetery — such were the walls of that 
sinister funnel, at the bottom of which were invasion, 
captivity, St. Helena and death. 

Having crossed the Niemen, Napoleon and France 
were fairly on the road to destruction, as if impelled 
by a mysterious, invisible force. 


XL 

THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 

•> 

The private hospital of Doctor Dubuisson was at 
once a therapeutic establishment, where patients af- 
flicted with divers chronic diseases were cared for, and 
a sort of annex to the State prisons, where special 
prisoners were received. 

Some persons convicted of political offences, by 
claiming to be suffering from diseases which the con- 
venient certificate of a medical friend would aggravate 
by the use of terrifying scientific terms, obtained the 
favor of being transferred to Doctor Dubuisson’s care, 
and of undergoing their imprisonment in his chambers, 
which were much more comfortable and salubrious 
than the cells of the prisons of the empire. 

Certain prisoners have enjoyed similar privileges 
under all governments. During the second empire, 
the therapeutic establishment of Doctor Pascal, the 
hospital of Doctor Beni Barde, and many other medical 
resorts of analogous character received the journalists 
and street orators who were desirous to escape the 
relatively mild regimen of Sainte-Pelagie. This favor 
is still granted under the republic. 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


207 


Napoleon was the originator of this conglomerate 
system, which enables most tolerant and humane 
treatment to be extended to political opponents, rarely 
dangerous, and whom a sudden turn of the wheel may 
restore to power. How many ministries in our own 
day enlist some of their members in the prisons ! 

But it will be noticed that under the governments 
which have succeeded the empire, the prisoners who 
have been granted this privilege have been in almost 
every instance convicted of trifling offences only, of 
some inadvertence of pen or tongue. All others have 
undergone the ordinary penitentiary regimen. Some- 
times, indeed, the authors of conspiracies and the 
leaders of unsuccessful emeutes have been lodged in 
the fortresses of Taureau, lie d’Aix and Joux, the 
prisons of Fontevrault, Doullens and Clairvaux, Afri- 
can towns like Lambessa, and at the galleys, too. 
Napoleon, dread despot as he was, often exhibited 
extraordinary clemency toward men who had tried to 
assassinate him. 

In the private hospital of Doctor Dubuisson, located 
near the Barri&re du Trone, above the Faubourg Saint- 
Antoine, in a neighborhood that was half city, half 
country, with plenty of trees, fine air (the neighboring 
quarter still bears the name of Bel-Air), hard by the 
wood of Vincennes, and surrounded by delightful 
villas, several redoubtable personal enemies of the 
emperor were undergoing a mild sort of captivity. 

There were incarcerated for divers reasons, in addi- 


208 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


tion to General Malet, two brothers, the princes 
Armand and Jules de Polignac, who were arrested as 
a result of the conspiracy of Georges Cadoudal, the 
Marquis de Puyvert, also a royalist, and the Abbe 
Lafon, Malet’s adviser and confidant, but who be- 
lieved in good faith that the general was working for 
the Bourbons and the pope. 

The Abbe Lafon, whom we have heretofore seen on 
the day the King of Rome was born, awaiting im- 
patiently in the little wine-shop at the Hotel de Nantes 
the news which was to hasten or postpone the fulfil- 
ment of his hopes as a royalist conspirator, had since 
then fallen into the hands of the police. Being under 
the protection of Comte Dubois, prefect of police, he 
had obtained the favor of undergoing his imprison- 
ment in the hospital of the Barriere du Trone. 

Malet at once took the abbe to his heart, and it was 
but a short time before he gave him his entire confi- 
dence. 

General Claude -Francois Malet was at this time 
about fifty-eight years old. He was born of a noble 
family at Dole in the Jura. He enlisted at the age of 
sixteen, and was a captain of cavalry at the outbreak 
of the Revolution. Being deputed to represent his 
department at the fete of the Federation in 1790, he 
was chosen chief of the battalion of Franche-Comte, 
and commanded the garrison of BesanQon. In 1799 
he was sent to the Army of Italy as brigadier-general, 
and served under Championnet and Massena. His 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


209 


name appeared among the earlier promotions as com- 
mander in the Legion of Honor. He gave in his ad- 
hesion to the constitution of the empire with some 
reservations. 

“ Citizen First Consul,” he wrote to Bonaparte, 
when sending him his vote and his soldiers’, “we unite 
our suffrages with those of those Frenchmen who 
desire to see the fatherland happy and free. If an 
hereditary empire is our only remaining refuge against 
factional divisions, be emperor.” 

This soldier, whose mind teemed with schemes of 
revolt and with dreams of daring deeds, whose military 
capacity was but mediocre, always discontented, an 
unruly subordinate, who saw with intense irritation 
the rapid promotion of those much younger than him- 
self, was endowed with the soul of a conspirator and 
the scheming temperament of a traitor. The memor- 
able conspiracy which bears his name was not his 
maiden venture in that direction. His whole life was 
filled with shady projects of bold coups-de-main , of 
barrack revolts, of pronunciamentos in camp, and 
with romantic schemes of abduction. In him were 
reproduced the condottivre of the petty Italian re- 
publics, and the Teutonic vehme. In the Spanish 
generals of the present day his temperament is -repro- 
duced. 

He became affiliated early in their history with the 
military societies whose aim it was to overthrow every 
leader who evinced a purpose to change the republican 


210 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


form of government for his own benefit. These soci- 
eties bore different names. Their members styled 
themselves Miquelets in the Pyrenees, Barbels in the 
Alps, Bandoliers in the Jura, Freres Bleus (Blue 
Brethren) in the Centre and West. These different 
groups succeeded in coalescing in the society of Phila- 
delphians, which had branches in other countries, and 
concerning which we have given some details in “ La 
Marechale.” Malet was known as Leonidas among 
the Philadelphians, whose chief he became after the 
death of Colonel Oudet (Philopoemen), slain at Wag- 
ram. 

When commanding the camp at Dijon in 1799, 
Malet, with the Philadelphians, devised a scheme to 
abduct the First Consul, who was to pass through 
Dijon on his way to win the battle of Marengo and 
save France. 

A hundred determined men, stationed by Malet, 
who had given them orders which meant nothing on 
the surface, might easily surround Bonaparte and his 
escort in the defiles of the Jura, and take him prisoner. 
What a blessed boon for Austria if Malet had suc- 
ceeded ! His plan was to take advantage of the con- 
fusion following the First Consul’s death, and march 
upon Paris at the head of the troops in the Jura. 
The conspiracy was discovered. The First Consul 
avoided the defiles in question and reached the battle- 
field of Marengo in safety. Fortune turned its back 
upon the Austrians. 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


211 


Malet was suspected, but not convicted, of treason. 
Desmarets, then at the head of the secret police, says 
in liis rare and interesting “ Temoignages ” : 

“ I believed him to be connected at that time with a 
certain scheme to abduct the First Consul as he passed 
through Dijon. The explanation which I had with 
him thereupon put an end to our friendly relations 
which dated from the old days of the Army of 
Italy.” 

From Angouleme, to which place he was trans- 
ferred, he went to Rome, whence he was recalled as 
the result of acts of insubordination growing out of a 
disagreement with General Miollis. 

This episode was not calculated to put an end to his 
rebellious imaginings. He conceived a bitter hatred 
for the emperor. With untiring patience he sought to 
take advantage of every opportunity, to manufacture 
opportunities when possible, to imagine them at need, 
to win over the army, to incite the people and to over- 
throw his enemy. 

This hatred explains more satisfactorily than Malet’s 
past history his republican sentiments, which are in- 
contestable, although he sought allies among the 
royalists. 

As we have seen, he attempted in 1808 to dethrone 
Napoleon, in concert with the committee of Rue 
Bourg-l’Abbe, of which the Jacobin Demaillot was 
the leading spirit. His plan at that time was to take 
advantage of Napoleon’s absence to circulate a report 


212 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


of his death. The conspiracy was betrayed and Malet 
was imprisoned soon after. 

We have reproduced the submissive letter in which 
he besought pardon of the emperor, offering to leave 
France, and to go as a colonist to Mauritius. 

After Renee, accompanied by La Violette, went to 
Saint-Cloud and solicited the pardon of Malet and of 
Major Marcel, who was involved in his conspiracy, 
the emperor remitted the major’s punishment, and 
authorized Malet’s transfer to Doctor Dubuisson’s es- 
tablishment. 

There we find him on Thursday, October 22, 1812, 

— the day, of tragic memory, when Napoleon evacu- 
ated Moscow, and began, with the Grande Armee, 
clothed in rags, his fatal march over the snow-clad * 
wastes of Russia. 

Malet, even in prison, had not ceased his conspiring. 

In 1809 he attempted to renew his former scheme, 
that is to say, to spread the report that the emperor 
had been killed at Wagram ; then, under cover of the 
general confusion, to march upon Notre-Dame. He 
selected June 29th, the day on which a Te Deiim was 
to be sung in the cathedral. He proposed to seize the 
civil and military authorities assembled there to listen 
to the ceremony. An Italian named Sorbi, who was 
confined with him at La Force, detected a part of his 
plan. Malet suspected his fidelity and countermanded 
his orders, so that the Te Deum for Wagram passed 
off uneventfully. 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 213 

This obstinate conspirator had one fixed idea ; to 
avail himself of the stupefaction which would follow 
the news of the emperor’s death, announced without 
warning, to make himself master, under cover of the 
general confusion, of the important posts, and to seize 
the supreme military authority. He thus evoked the 
memory of another somewhat mysterious State prisoner, 
Auguste Blanqui, who sought like him to overturn the 
existing government by surprise, by uprisings in which 
but a small number should take part, and by taking 
possession of the departments, the Hotel de Yille and 
the police, either by force or with the aid of false seals 
and forged documents. 

Were Malet and the few companions who figured 
in his prosecution the only conspirators in 1812 ; or 
had he the support of powerful confederates, whose 
names were never disclosed ? Did he reckon upon 
the adhesion of what remained of the Philadelphians, 
upon the prompt assistance of cashiered officers w r ho 
shared his ill-feelings, and simply awaited an opportu- 
nity to throw themselves heart and soul into an in- 
surrectionary movement? Everything points to that 
conclusion, but the historical proof of such complicity 
has never come to light, and it is impossible, with cer- 
tainty, to say that Malet had other auxiliaries than 
those who were afterwards known to be such. 

The regulations of the hospital permitted the in- 
mates to receive visits at all hours of the day, and 
Malet had several visitors every day. There was 


214 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


nothing noticeable in this regard on Thursday, Octo- 
ber 2 2d. 

In his room were the Abbe Lafon, the monk 
Camagno, the seminarist Boutreux, Surgeon-Major 
Marcel, and Corporal Rateau, a young subaltern of 
the Parisian Guard. 

Rateau was about twenty-eight. He was the son of 
a distiller at Bordeaux, and was a kinsman of Baron 
Rateau, procureur-general at Bordeaux. 

When the five conspirators were alone with their 
leader, who had detained them on one pretext or an- 
other, he said, in sharp, incisive tones : 

“ We must put an end to this, my friends. The 
empire has lasted too long, and the emperor has lived 
too long! The moment has come to strike the de- 
cisive blow. Are you ready to follow me ? ” 

He questioned with his glance as well as his words. 
All replied in the affirmative. 

The Abbe Lafon, however, made this reservation : 

“ It is understood, my dear general, that our pur- 
pose is to overthrow the empire simply, and not to re- 
establish the republic ? ” 

Malet waved his hand impatiently. 

“ We reserve the form of government for future 
consideration,” he said : “the French, when they are 
once more free, will make choice of the regime which 
seems best to them.” 

“ Yery good,” said the monk Camagno, with his 
bronzed, piratical face, and his eyes in which blazed 



WE MUST PUT AX END TO THIS, MV FRIENDS. THE EMPIRE HAS 

LASTED TOO LONG.” 



THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


215 


the flame of fanaticism, “ we will go with you, though 
it be to the gallows, but you will give me an assurance 
which I Can communicate to my friends, that all your 
energies, if you succeed, will tend to restore the King 
of Spain, Ferdinand VII, to his throne ? ” 

<£ We will attend to the affairs of Spain when we 
have made an end of the tyrant here,” replied Malet, 
shortly. “ Has any one any further objection to sug- 
gest?” he added, glancing imperiously around. 

“We ought to take up arms not only to overthrow 
a throne,” said, in his calm voice, ex-Surgeon-Major 
Marcel, the humanitarian disciple of Anacliarsis Clootz, 
“but to establish the universal republic, the pacific 
federation of the United States of Europe. I call 
upon you, therefore, general, to take advantage of the 
tremendous noble impulse which your great deed will 
impart to all nations, to deliver those who are still 
enslaved. Poland, Ireland and Greece await deliver- 
ance at our hands. We must set on foot a revolution 
in the name of the principle of nationality: France 
must furnish a fatherland to those who have none, and 
enfranchise all men who are still slaves. For such a 
glorious end do I march by your side, general ! ” 

“ We will take care to strengthen ourselves by form- 
ing alliances with the downtrodden nations — that is 
understood,” said Malet ; “ but, before we think of 
enfranchising Poles and Irish and Greeks, we must 
set Frenchmen free. Is there anything more to be 
said?” 


216 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


“ Pardon me, general,” said the seminarist Bou- 
treux, timidly ; “ we must not forget our consecrated 
pontiff, who is in prison.” 

u Agreed ! I have already given my word. But 
Napoleon first, the pope afterwards,” said Malet, with 
growing irritation. “ How is it with you,” he added, 
turning to the corporal ; “ have you no king or pope 
to commend to my attention ? You are the only one 
who hasn’t opened his mouth.” 

“ General,” replied Rateau, blushing like a girl, “ I 
should like to be a sub-lieutenant.” 

Malet’s face grew bright. 

“Good! You ask something for yourself, at all 
events ; you are the most reasonable of all. Never 
fear, my boy, you shall have your epaulettes. Now, 
my friends, listen to me attentively,” continued Malet : 
“ the hours are short, and this very night we will make 
the attempt.” 

A shudder ran through his hearers. Not that any 
one trembled. It was rather one of those thrills of 
feverish pleasure, of joyful anticipation, which make 
the nerves of gamblers and lovers vibrate deliciously. 
Conspirators are well acquainted with the sensation. 
Desire, anxiety, uncertainty give rise to strange and 
powerful emotions. The blood flows with increased 
speed through the veins at such moments, and one 
sees double. 

Malet took advantage of the excitement of his 
confederates to develop, quite coldly and in much de- 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


217 


tail, his plan, which was even more insane than auda- 
cious. 

He had arranged its different parts with precision 
and method. He bore the entire weight of it alone. 
No one of the subordinates to whom he ordinarily con- 
fided everything knew aught about it. They knew 
.‘imply that the empire was to be overthrown, and 
that they were to rush down into the street when 
Malet should give the signal. 

He began by calling their attention to the fact that 
the time was most propitious for their undertaking. 
As soon as he was assured that Napoleon with his 
whole army was fairly embarked on his perilous 
march toward the northern solitudes, he became ex- 
tremely hopeful of renewing successfully his previous 
attempts. This time he seemed sure of success. His 
fixed idea, his hobby, the supposed death of the em- 
peror, was about to take place and assume the guise 
of reality. 

For seven days Paris had been without news of Na- 
poleon and the Grande Armee. The most alarming 
reports found ready credence. The paralysis of trade, 
the stoppage of work, the wretched harvest (the comet 
of 1812 caused an exceptionally severe drouth), the 
unpopularity of Marie-Louise awakening memories of 
Marie-An toinette, for the people regretted Josephine, 
and could not accustom themselves to the Austrian, — - 
all these causes of unrest and discomfort worked in 
favor of Malet’s audacious designs. 


218 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


The enterprise was rash to the point of madness 
beyond question ; and yet it demonstrated that its 
author possessed a very keen intuition of what was 
taking place in the popular mind, and a very just per- 
ception of the state of public feeling, of the nascent 
treachery, and of possible surprises in store. 

The Abbe Lafon, who, as an ardent royalist and 
clerical, anticipated failure, and would have chosen to 
have Malet act frankly in the name of the Bourbons, 
hoisting the white flag and proclaiming the legitimate 
sovereign, Louis XVIII — having listened, to Malet’s 
exposition of his plan, asked him : “ Do you rely upon 
the support of the senate? Have you sounded any 
,of its members ? ” 

Malet replied frankly : 

“Not one! You alone know my plan. But the 
senators — a great majority of them at all events- — 
are weary of serving the empire. The rumbling which 
is the precursor of revolt, is audible in both of the 
great deliberative bodies. The senate, which would 
hesitate, no doubt, to take the initiative, will ratify the 
results of the insurrection with unanimity when it has 
become an accomplished fact. As soon as the senators 
are convinced that Napoleon is dead, they will lose 
no time in voting to abolish his government. That 
will take place which was seen under the old monarchy, 
when Louis XI Y and Louis XV were gathered to 
their fathers. Their testaments were torn in pieces, 
the provisions of those documents were utterly disre- 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


219 


garded, and the few courtiers who remained faithful 
to them after death were persecuted. Man is a cow- 
ard, my friends ; he submits to force, no matter whence 
it comes, but only so long as it continues to be force. 
When a new power arises, the meanest trucklers to 
the powers that were rise from their cringing attitudes, 
run to the rising sun and strive to obtain forgiveness 
for their past servility by promising complete subservi- 
ence thereafter. Every accession to power is a fine 
thing. The crowd salutes the new actors who appear 
on the stage of the world, and forget those who have 
been driven back into the wings. The emperor dead, 
or believed to be so, the empire is buried. To-morrow 
no one will confess to having been a Bonapartist. Oh ! 
I know this people and those who lead them ! We shall 
have the senate on our side, I am sure of it ! Indeed, 
I have taken its approval for granted and have acted 
accordingly.” 

Malet, as he spoke, unfolded a paper with staring 
head-lines, and read the following document, very 
cleverly fabricated by him, . and quite well-calculated 
to deceive unsuspecting eyes by its apparent authen- 
ticity. 

It was a senatus-consultum, intended to be placarded 
all over the city, read to the troops of the garrison, 
sent to the prefects and military commandants through- 
out France, and shown, if need were, to the generals, 
ministers and other public officials, when called upon 
by Malet in the name and by authority of the senate. 


220 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


The original of this document, first published under 
the Restoration, is in the Archives Nationales. It was 
as follows : 

SENAT CONSERVATEUR. 

Sitting of October 22, 1812. 

M. de SIEYES, Presiding. 

“ The sitting opened at 8.30 p. m. under the presi- 
dency of Senator Sieyes. 

‘•The senate, called together in extraordinary ses- 
sion, listened to the reading of the despatch announc- 
ing the death of the Emperor Napoleon, which took 
place under the walls of Moscow on the 7th of this 
month. 

“ The senate, having duly deliberated upon this un- 
foreseen occurrence, appointed a committee to sit dur- 
ing the session and take counsel concerning the means 
© © 

of saving the country from the imminent peril by 
which it is menaced, and having listened to the report 
of the committee discussed the same, and doth ordain 
as follows ” : 

Then followed the enacting part of the decree in 
nineteen articles. 

The first article provided that, inasmuch as the im- 
perial form of government had not fulfilled the hopes 
of those who expected that all true Frenchmen would 
live in peace and happiness under it, the existing gov- 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


221 


ernment with its institutions was abolished. The 
Legion of Honor was retained. A provisional govern- 
ment of fifteen was established and was constituted 
thus : 

General Moreau was made President. This famous 
traitor was at this time in the United States ; but his 
correspondence with the Philadelphians, his former 
relations with the royalists, his offers of service to 
Russia and Prussia, in whose ranks he was destined to 
meet his death in the following year, while fighting 
against France at Dresden, all go to prove that Malet, 
even if he were acting on his own responsibility, had 
powerful connections, and would have had aides, if he 
had succeeded, among the partisans of the Bourbons, 
and in the European courts. 

The Vice-Presidency was to go to Carnot. The 
other members were : General Augereau ; Bigonnet ; 
Destutt de Tracy, senator; Florent-Guyot, once a 
member of the Convention; Frochot, at this time 
Prefect of the Seine; Jacquemont; Lambrecht, sena- 
tor ; Mathieu, Due de Montmorency, royalist ; Gen- 
eral Malet; Alexis, Due de Noailles, royalist; Tru- 
guet, vice-admiral; Volney and Garat, senators. 

It will be seen that this was a very conglomerate 
government, and that, while Carnot, Malet, Augereau, 
with Florent-Guyot and Jacquemont represented the 
republican element, Frochot, Vice-Admiral Truguet, 
Volney, Lambrecht, Garat and Destutt de Tracy stood 
for those, once republicans, who had given in their 


222 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


adhesion to the empire, and the Dues de Noailles and 
de Montmorency represented the royalist faction. 
The imperial senators might under certain circum- 
stances join forces with the royalists, if the question 
of offering the crown to this or that one should come 
under discussion. Furthermore, the appointment as 
President of General Moreau, who was already nego- 
tiating with the future leaders of the coalition, made 
the restoration of Louis XVIII the most probable 
outcome if Malet’s coup-de-main had been successfully 
carried out. 

Malet, be it understood, was a republican. But his 
republicanism was that of a general. He could very 
well reconcile his opinions with a monarchy controlled 
by a charter. Historians favorable to Malet have 
been hard pressed to justify the presence of royalists 
and of legislators allied to the emperor in this insur- 
rectionary commission. M. Ernest Hamel, who wrote 
the apology for Malet and his conspiracies, was obliged 
to admit that, although the conspiracy of 1808 (com- 
mittee of Rue Bourg-l’Abbe) was of a pronounced 
democratic character, with the re-establishment of the 
republic for its object, the object of the second con- 
spiracy was much less definite. In 1812 the form of 
government was held in abeyance, and a royalist ele- 
ment found a place among the members selected to 
prepare and present for acceptance by the French 
people a new constitution. 

With Moreau at its head, the commission would 


the private hospital. 


223 


certainly have worked in the interest of the Bourbons 
and the crowned heads of Europe, who were even 
more afraid of the republic than of Napoleon. 

By the terms of the senatus-consultum the ministers 
were dismissed ; the lower departmental officials were 
to retain their posts : amnesty was granted deserters, 
exiles and emigres : this last class included almost no- 
body save the princes and their suites, and the last of 
the Chouans in English pay. 

Article 7 provided that a deputation should be sent 
to “ His Holiness Pope Pius VII, to entreat him, in 
the name of the nation, to forget the injuries he had 
undergone, and to invite him to visit Paris before re- 
turning to Rome.” 

Malet, it will be seen, was careful not to neglect the 
religious element. He counted on the support of the 
pope and the clergy. This article shouh\ have pleased 
his earliest confederates, Abbe Lafon, Camagno, and 
Boutreux. 

The National Guards, who were required to join the 
armies in the field at the time of the extraordinary 
levies, were authorized to return to their homes, a 
measure which, although it weakened the forces which 
were confronting the enemy, was well calculated to 
win popularity for the new government. 

General Lecourbe was appointed commander-in- 
chief of the army of Paris, while General Malet was 
to replace General Hullin in command of the garrison 
of the capital. 


224 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


The senatus-eonsultum purported to be signed by 
Sieyes, president, Lanjuinais and Gregoire, secretaries, 
and countersigned by Malet, “general of division, 
commanding in chief the garrison of Paris and the 
troops of the first military division.” 

A proclamation, drawn up at the same time by 
Malet, was to be read in barracks and placarded on 
the walls of Paris. 

This appeal, vehement in the extreme, container 
sentences like this, treating the victorious Cossacks 
to whose lances, it alleged, Napoleon had succumbed, 
as the saviors of France and the world : 

“ Citizens and soldiers, Bonaparte is no more ! The 
tyrant has fallen beneath the blows of the avengers 
of mankind ! Let us return thanks to them ! They 
have deserved well of our country and the human 
race ! ’* 

4 

After this tribute of gratitude to the victorious foe, 
the schemer attacked and insulted the emperor’s son. 

“ If we have to blush for having so long endured 
the sway of a foreigner, a Corsican, we are too proud 
to suffer that of a bastard ! ” 

If the insult to Corsica, a French island, was use- 
less and injudicious, the outrage put upon the poor 
little King of Rome was insane. But Malet was not 
the man to keep any bounds. Did he not, at the end 
of his proclamation, doubtless to please the former 
lackeys of Thermidor — transformed into senators 
under Bonaparte, and whom he was seeking to seduce 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


225 


from their allegiance — did he not throw dirt upon 
the great citizen, who was the incarnation of the Rev- 
olution and the Republic until the reaction brought 
about by La Cabarrus and her lover, the detestable 
Tallien ? 

“ Prove to France,” cried Malet, “ that you are no 
more Bonaparte’s soldiers than you were Robes- 
pierre’s ! ” 

When he had finished reading these documents, 
Malet assigned their respective roles to his accom- 
plices. 

Then he collated, signed and affixed his seal to 
divers commissions appointing to various offices and 
comhiands those whom he proposed to draw into his 
net. 

Having completed these preliminaries, he gave his 
hand to each in succession, saying in a tone of com- 
mand : 

“We are to act to-night at eleven o’clock! Be 
ready ! ” 

All replied : 

“ Until to-night ! ” 

“ The rendezvous ? ” queried Abbe Lafon. “ It 
cannot be here ; the establishment of worthy Doctor 
Dubuisson will not open its doors to our friends at 
night.” 

“ Of course,” said Malet, “ we must assemble at 
some one of our houses.” 

“ At mine, if you choose,” said Camagno ; “ I live 


226 


THE PRIVATE HOSPITAL. 


in a quiet spot, Cul-de-sac Saint-Pierre, Rue Saint 
Gilles, in the Marais.” 

“Agreed!” was Malet’s decision. “You under- 
stand, gentlemen ; at eleven o’clock. Rue Saint- 
Gilles.” 

“We will be there! ” said the conspirators. 

“ One moment,” said the monk. “To prove your 
identity, for you may be watched and followed, you 
will drop a bit of paper into the box at the door ; 1 
shall not open except upon that indication.” 

As he spoke he took from his pocket a crumpled 
letter, evidently a rough draft of something, tore it 
into five pieces, and handed a piece to Malet, to Abbe 
Lafon, Boutreux, Marcel and Corporal Rateau. 

Each one carefully deposited his piece in his pocket. 

The three visitors thereupon left the hospital, being 
escorted to the door by the general, without attracting 
the attention of Doctor Dubuisson’s boarders, or of any 
of Rovigo’s agents who may have been prowling about 
in the vicinity. 


XII. 


THE CONSPIRACY OP COMPIEGNE. 

General Malet, when he was left alone, reflected 7 
deeply for some moments, turning over and over the 
papers spread out upon the table, which he finally 
placed in a portfolio provided with a lock and key. 

In them lay the germ of the whole conspiracy. 
With those sheets of paper, those false seals, those 
forged signatures, this man, without influence, alone, 
and a prisoner, having neither money nor prestige, 
knowing nothing of Paris, forgotten by the troops, 
unknown to the civil population, was to succeed in 
suspending for an instant the public life, stopping the 
mighty mechanism of the imperial machine, and by 
diverting to his purposes the regular course of the ad- 
ministrative stream, in substituting for a few short 
hours, filled to overflowing with startling events, his 
will for all established authority, and his personality 
for that of the absent emperor. 

This incredible conspiracy — laying aside the royal- 
ist connections, the assistance from outside, and the 
adhesion of the office-holders, which would not become 
available until after complete success had beeiL 


228 


THE CONSPIRACY OF COMPIEGNE. 


achieved and the new government firmly established — 
demonstrates the extraordinary force of the human 
will. 

The one fixed idea, the concentration of all the fac- 
ulties and all <the feelings upon a single object *. the 
overturning of the empire by publishing a report of 
the emperor’s sudden death in a distant land — was 
the only fragment of reality in this phantasmagoria. 

It is too clear for argument that all the probabilities 
were against the report being believed ; that nothing 
more was needed than the cautious instinct of a 
thoughtful mind, reflecting upon the manifest improb- 
ability that intelligence of the emperor’s death should 
be made known in such a way, and asking itself 
whence came this General Malet, who was invested 
by the senate with the chief command in Paris — - that 
nothing more than this was needed to arouse instant 
suspicion of fraud, and prevent the fictitious senatus- 
consultittn from having the least effect ; and that if a 
single one of the officials, whose co-operation was in- 
dispensable to Malet, should decline to take him seri- 
ously and obey him, his whole card-house would fall 
to the ground. And this is what actually happened. 

But it is a wonderful thing none the less, that the 
brain of a man, in prison and utterly without re- 
sources, should have been able to form such a mad 
project, and impart to it such apparent consistency 
that the majority of historians have discussed it as 
something that might have been realised, and that 


THE CONSPIRACY OF COMP1EGNE. 


229 


proved abortive only by the coincidence of divers acci- 
dental circumstances, which have never been fully 
explained. For why did Frochot, the Prefect of the 
Seine, whose devotion to the emperor was beyond 
question, believe Malet’s unsupported word, lend him 
his assistance, and place the Hotel de Ville at his dis- 
position, while General Hullin, whose habit of passive 
obedience, and the assurance that he was protected by 
the order of a superior, might have justified his sub- 
mission to the orders transmitted to him, refused to 
surrender his post to Malet ? Veracious history never 
was called upon to record anything more like romance. 
This conspiracy, absurd in its details, and confused in 
its conception, was before all else a masterpiece of 
willpower. Furthermore, its results were more far- 
reaching than its author dreamed, even after its col- 
lapse. The disproportion between the feeble assail- 
ant and the mighty empire which was in serious danger 
for one whole morning, caused the instability of the 
imperial throne to stand out in bold relief. It made 
clear the possibility of a crash if the emperor should 
really disappear. At the same time it accustomed the 
people to look upon the King of Rome as no suitable 
inheritor of Napoleon’s power. We may say that the 
Malet conspiracy paved the way for the substitution, 
in 1814, of another dynasty for the Napoleonic. Alex- 
ander of Russia, the King of Prussia, Wellington, 
Bliicher realized thenceforth the t France was vulner- 
able. The blow must be struck not at the heart, but 


230 


the Conspiracy of compiegne. 


at the head of the invincible nation. Napoleon was 
nothing more than the conqueror of a day. Fouche 
and Talleyrand said to themselves that they must 
make sure of a master whose throne would rest upon 
^a firmer foundation. The Emperor of Austria con- 
ceived doubts as to the enduring value of his bargain. 
JYlalet prevented a Napoleon II. 

Malet, who had locked his door in order to classify 
and arrange his invaluable documents, hearing a knock, 
threw the door open and assumed an indifferent air 
with which to receive his visitor. 

A young man, with a frank, energetic face appeared 
in the doorway. He wore a long redingote buttoned 
to the chin, and top boots, and carried a heavy cane — 
apparently an officer in civilian costume. 

Malet’s face lighted up. Evidently the newcomer 
interested him, and perhaps disturbed him. 

“ Ah ! is it you, Colonel Henriot ? ” he said, eagerly. 
“ Welcome ! What news ? ” 

“ Don’t mention my name,” said the visitor in a 
very low tone. 

“ No one can hear us; don’t be alarmed. The walls 
are thick, the doors closed, and houses like this are 
very discreet. I asked you what news ? I am so anx- 
ious to know if any despatch has arrived.” 

“There has been as yet no courier from Russia.” 

“ And the empress ? ” 

“Is still in the greatest anxiety concerning her 
husband’s fate. She is at Saint-Cloud with her son, 
and she also is expecting a courier.” 


THE CONSPIRACY OF COMPIEGNE. 


231 


“ Then the gods are with us ! ” said Malet, joyfully. 
“ Perhaps, my dear colonel, Napoleon is really lying 
dead at this moment in the snows of Russia ? ” 

“ No ! I am sure that he is living ! ” rejoined Hen- 
riot, bitterly : “ a demon watches over him.” 

“You are a stout-hearted man, colonel; and your 
hatred of Napoleon also protects you from all possi- 
bility of weakening. You have confided to me a part 
of your suffering : you may take some comfort even 
now in the thought that you will soon be avenged ! ” 

“ Is it possible ? ” said Henriot, shaking his head : 
“ I am beginning to despair, and am no longer the same 
man who opened his heart to you. Look you, gen- 
eral ; it was my wish to go with the army, to follow 
Napoleon to far-off Russia, and there, one day or 
another, lie in wait for him, take him by surprise, and 
strike him to the heart as he struck me ! But Comte 
de Maubreuil dissuaded me, by insisting that you could 
help me obtain my revenge more surely. He advised 
me to see you, to furnish you with information which 
would be of use to you for a purpose which I suspect, 
but which you have concealed from me. I followed 
Maubreuil’s advice : I came to you, placed myself at 
your disposition, and furnished you with whatever in- 
formation you requested.” 

“And you have been a most invaluable ally, my 
dear Henriot : before long my friends and I will find 
a way to acknowledge your services.” 

“I have no idea what your purpose is. I cannot 


232 


THE CONSPIRACY OF COMPIEGNE. 


divine the mysterious goal toward which your steps 
are bent,” rejoined Henriot, with emotion ; “ I have 
followed you like a man whose eyes are bandaged and 
who feels his way along in the darkness. For you, to 
assist you — for I thought that I was bringing my 
vengeance nearer at the same time — I consented to 
remain in France. By pretending that I was suffering 
from an internal disease, a physical disability, although 
my disease is altogether of the mind, I was able, with 
the assistance of Marshal Lefebvre, to obtain permis- 
sion to remain in Paris. While my comrades are 
exchanging sword- thrusts with the Russians, taking 
cities, winning battles, gaining promotion and covering 
themselves with glory in this war of giants, I sit be- 
fore a desk, with my sword in its scabbard, an obscure 
scribbler in the office of the garrison, in attendance 
upon General Hullin, Governor of Paris.” 

“ A post of honor and of trust ! Do not complain ! 
There more than elsewhere you can be serviceable to 
the cause.” 

Henriot hung his head. A sharp conflict seemed to 
be in progress in his mind. He continued, with in- 
creasing dejection : 

“ My position in attendance upon the commandant 
of the garrison of Paris made it possible for me to 
acquire exact information concerning the available 
forces, the strength of the different posts, the names 
of the officers and their situation. You asked me to 
give you this information, and I did so. It was 
treason, general.” 


















































































♦ 








t • 


AND NOW, YOU ARE LESS EXCITED. 


> > 



THE CONSPIRACY OF COMPIEGNE. 


233 


“ That’s a very strong word,” said Malet jocosely, 
seeking to allay the young colonel’s evident remorse. 
“ Be assured,” he continued more forcibly, “ that you 
are false neither to your duty nor to your country: I 
asked nothing of you which would sully your honor. 
General Malet is incapable of ordering any man to 
commit a dishonorable act! ” 

“ I believe you, general. But if, in the first flush 
of wrath, and of grief as well, when listening to Mau- 
breuil, I was ready to dare anything, to undertake 
anything under heaven against the emperor, it was to 
be revenged upon him.” 

“ And now, you are less excited, your wrath has 
vanished, your grief is less bitter?” Malet asked ; and 
added, with something very like irony : “ Do you deem 
yourself already avenged, because we are without news 
of Napoleon, and the report of his death under the 
walls of Moscow may arrive at any moment?” 

“ My grief is as bitter, my wrath as hot, as before, 
and I still thirst for vengeance.” 

“ V ery well ! if that is so, whence these scruples, 
this hesitation, my young comrade ? ” 

“ Hark ye, general : I have taken a vow of deadly 
hatred for Napoleon. But it is Napoleon alone whom 
I seek, it is his person I desire to reach ; it is he, the 
man, whom I wish to strike down. The emperor is 
still sacred in my eyes ! In him I revere the leader of 
our magnificent army, the buckler of France, the sword 
of our mighty nation marching on to glory ! ” 


234 


THE CONSPIRACY OF COMPIEGNK. 


“ Child,” muttered Malet, shaking his head, “ the 
emperor and Napoleon are one.” 

“ Not in my eyes ! As I reflect upon what is said 
in Paris, upon the alarming reports in circulation, and 
the absence of news, which leads to the supposition 
that the army has met with disaster, I ask myself if I 
can retain my feeling of hatred, — as it were, a loaded 
musket aimed at the heart of the man who rides with 
France behind him in the saddle.” 

“ Napoleon is not France ! ” exclaimed .Malet, forci- 
bly. “ He has betrayed the cause of liberty. He is a 
despot who sacrifices everything to his ambition. He 
has caused the purest blood of our young men to flow 
upon every field in Europe through a thousand canals. 
He is at this moment leading into those desert wastes, 
which yawn like open graves, almost the whole fight- 
ing strength of the nation, and it will be swallowed up 
there. His path is strewn with dead men’s bones. 
France needs air, is stifling for a breath of liberty, but 
she is gagged ; she needs peace, and is forced into end- 
less wars. No ! France is not Napoleon ; you cannot 
confound the tyrant -with the slave, the executioner 
with the victim ! ” 

Malet delivered this harangue with great vehemence. 
Henriot, to whom the conspirator had revealed no 
part of his plans, kept his eyes fixed upon the floor 
and said nothing. 

After watching him narrowly for some moments, 
Malet resumed in a tone of decision : 


THE CONSPIRACY OF COMP1EGNE. 


235 


“ You came to me, colonel — I neither sought you 
out nor asked you to come to me, a prisoner, who have 
no reason to be attached to the emperor, a republican 
who am not in love with the empire, an officer dismissed 
from his command and as such inclined to surround 
himself with malcontents — and I welcomed you with 
great pleasure, with confidence, yes, with hope, when 
you were advised to come to me by Comte d’Orvault 
de Maubreuil, whom I knew at the court of West- 
phalia. I did not question you, but you laid your 
heart bare to me ; I asked nothing at your hands, but 
you offered to assist me in any undertaking against 
Napoleon. Without binding you to anything, without 
giving you the slightest hint of any plans I might 
have in view, I simply said to you that I should be 
very glad to be put in possession of certain details con- 
nected with the organization of the garrison of Paris, 
which, by the way, I might easily have procured else- 
where.” 

“ I furnished you with the information.” 

“ Do you repent having done so ? ” 

“ No, for I have brought you more to-day.” 

“ To what do you refer ? ” 

“ To that which you ask for in this note which was 
handed me yesterday at headquarters.” 

A joyful gleam shone in Malet’s dull, gray eyes. 

“ One moment ! ” said he ; “ I have no wish to do 
violence to your conscience. I reminded you just now 
under what circumstances you came to me, and of the 


236 • THE CONSPIRACY OF COMPIEGNE. 

services you have rendered me, which are in no wise 
compromising, by the way, and could not be charac- 
terized as treasonable. That said, I made no claim 
upon you for additional information, nor did I seek to 
lead you on any farther toward a goal which alarms 
you.” 

“ A goal of which I know nothing, general ! ” 

“ You will soon know it. Oh! have no fear; you 
will be made aware of all my acts and purposes ere 
long, and that without being involved in any of them.” 

“ General, I am not afraid — ” 

“ Yes ! you are afraid of injuring Napoleon ! ” 

Henriot raised his head w'hich he had kept con- 
stantly lowered. 

“Well! yes, you are right, general, I am afraid 
that in fighting against Napoleon I am fightingagainst 
my country ; I am afraid of wounding France if 1 
strike down her emperor ; I am afraid of putting the 
finishing touch at Paris to the discomfiture of my 
brothers-in-arms, whom the Cossacks are running 
through with their lances over yonder. But this fear 
will not prevent my fulfilling the promises I have 
made you, and in making myself useful to you I am 
sure that I am not serving the purposes of the enemy, 
and not aggravating the defeat which our troops, it 
may be, are undergoing at this moment, in the track- 
less solitudes of Russia ! ” 

“ What is it, pray, that causes all this apprehen- 
sion to-day ? ” said Malet, fixing his eyes upon the 


THE CONSPIRACY OF COMPIEGNE. 


237 


younger man : “ can it be the request contained in the 
letter which was handed you yesterday — by a person 
who can be trusted, you may be sure, my wife ! ” 

“ Yes, general, it is that request that alarms and 
troubles me, that induces me to halt on the edge of a 
precipice, which I cannot see, but of which I can in- 
stinctively feel the proximity. You asked me to fur- 
nish you this evening with the countersign to be given 
out to the officers at the different posts.” 

“ I might procure the countersign from friends in 
the garrison ; but I thought of you as the one who 
could most conveniently furnish me with it by virtue 
of your position under General Hullin. You fear to 
compromise yourself by giving it to me, and it’s for 
you to decide ; I will procure it elsewhere.” 

“ General, I have come provided with the counter- 
sign, and I will tell you what it is.” 

“ As you please ! ” rejoined Malet, affecting the ut- 
most indifference. “You see that I put no constraint 
upon you, comrade.” 

“ When I give you the countersign, general, I ask 
but one thing, and that is that you give me your word 
that you do not propose to use it to forward any under- 
taking which may prove of advantage to the enemy. 
I will not even seek to know for what purpose you 
wish to be in possession of it.” 

“ Parbleu ! ” said Malet, with feigned good-humor, 
“ you don’t imagine that I intend to hand it over to 
the Cossack outposts, do you ? Russia is too far 


238 


THE CONSPIRACY OF CO>IPIEGNE. 


away, and before the countersign given out at Paris 
on the night of October 23d can be known at Moscow, 
thirty new countersigns will have been given out and 
changed. Come, colonel, I will play with my cards 
on the table — I have no need to conceal anything 
from you, for I am sure that you will not betray me.” 

“ I swear — ” 

“ Don’t swear ! it’s useless ! Know then that I in- 
tend to leave this prison to-night. Although the hos- 
pital is a comfortable place enough, take it all in all, 
and one meets pleasant company at excellent Doctor 
Dubuisson’s table, I am tired of being put under lock 
and key every night. Therefore, as a favorable oppor- 
tunity has presented itself, I avail myself of it. To- 
night, which seems as dark and rainy as I could wish, 
I propose to take the air.” 

“ Where shall you go, general ? ” 

“ To America ; that is the land of liberty. I have 
friends in the United States.” 

“ I wish you good luck.” 

“ I hope to be nearing Boulogne to-morrow at this 
time, and there I mean to embark for England. From 
England I shall take passage for New York or Phila- 
delphia. But in order to reach Boulogne I must pass 
the barriers of Paris, where detachments of the 
National Guards are stationed. Those gallant war- 
riors might demand passports, which I have not as I 
shall travel in uniform — you see I have it all ready,” 
— and Malet, raising the seat of a couch, disclosed the 


THE CONSPIRACY OF COMPIEGNE. 


239 


full uniform of a general in the box beneath, “ I shall 
need to do no more than give the officer in command 
the countersign to allay the suspicions of the zealous 
National Guards, and avoid all difficulty; they will 
present arms and let me pass. That is why I asked 
you to bring me the countersign, my dear Henriot ! ” 

Malet’s whole tone and bearing were so stamped 
with sincerity that it was impossible to entertain a 
doubt as to his design to escape, Henriot, whose un- 
easiness, almost horror, at the idea of a scheme di- 
rected against the emperor, at that moment face to 
face with the enemy on the plains of Russia, increased 
from moment to moment, did not for that reason feel 
reluctant to assist a political prisoner to regain his 
liberty. To help along the escape of a prisoner, who 
is not in your custody, has never been considered a 
very serious matter, especially when there is nothing 
dishonorable in the cause of the imprisonment. 

So it was that Henriot hesitated no longer. 

“ Since it is simply a question of your freedom, 
general, I do not think that I am false to my duty in 
assisting you to regain it. The countersign for to- 
night is Cornpiegne- Conspiracy .” 

“ Thanks ! ” said Malet earnestly, as he pressed 
Henriot’s hand. 

A gleam of triumph swept over his stern features. 
The countersign gave him access to the posts ; he had 
the key to the situation in his hand ; Paris would be 
at his mercy. 


240 


THE CONSPIRACY OF COMPEIGNE. 


Repeating the two words which formed the counter- 
sign, he muttered : 

“ Compiegne ! that’s where the regiment of dragoons 
that is with us is to come from ; a good omen that. 
Conspiracy! ’Faith! the word is well chosen, and 
proves that we have friends in high places.” 

Regaining his self-control Malet again held out his 
hand to Henriot, reiterated his thanks, and added, as 
the ringing of a bell was heard : 

“ Permit me to leave you, my dear colonel ; that 
bell tells me that Madame Malet has arrived, and I 
must not keep her waiting. I have preparations to 
make too ; so excuse me and embrace me.” 

Henriot, whose last doubt as to the reality of the 
proposed escape had vanished, received the general’s 
embrace, and again wished him good luck. 

As they were about to part, Madame Malet en- 
tered. 

The current of air from the door stirred a piece of 
paper that lay on the floor, a fragment of the letter 
the monk Camagno had torn up and distributed among 
the conspirators as a means of indentification at the 
door on Rue Saint-Gilles. 

Madame Malet, seeing that her husband had a 
caller, stepped back into the hall. As she did so her 
skirt swept up the bit of paper and carried it along 
with her. 

Henriot withdrew after exchanging a last grasp of 
the hand with the general ; Madame Malet entered 


THE CONSPIRACY OF COMPIEGNE. 


241 


the room, and the door was carefully closed behind 
her. 

In the corridor Henriot’s foot came in contact with 
the bit of paper, and he instinctively stooped and 
picked it up. He was on the point of throwing it 
away when it occurred to him that it might contain 
some reference to the general’s escape. Thereupon 
he turned back, intending to knock at Malet's door 
and hand him the paper, which perhaps was of im- 
portance to him, and might fall into hostile hands. 

But the servant assigned to the general’s service 
came along to light him to the outer door, and Henriot, 
not wishing to arouse suspicion, as he- might do if he 
manifested any particular desire to return a torn frag- 
ment of paper, of no apparent value, quietly put it in 
his pocket, and followed the servant. 


XIII. 


MARCH ON! MARCH ON ! 

At the time when Malet was making ready to leave 
his medical prison, and betake himself from Faubourg 
Saint-Antoine to the Hotel de Ville, the goal to which 
all his thoughts led, and to the headquarters of the 
military government of Paris, the objective point of 
his audacious plan, let us see what had become of 
Napoleon and the Grande Armee on the plains of 
Russia. 

The Niemen was crossed on June 24th. Napoleon 
then marched in a northeasterly direction by Kowno, 
Wilna and Witebsk. 

The Grande Armee comprised ten corps in addition 
to the reserve cavalry and the Imperial Guard. 

These ten corps were made up as follows : 

"First Corps. — Marshal Davout, Prince of Eck- 
miihl commanding. . 

Divisions Moreau, Friant, Gudin, Desaix, Corn- 
pans : about 200,000 men. These were the cream of 
the imperial troops. 

Second Corps. — Marshal Oudinot, Duke of Reggio. 

Divisions Legrand, Verdier, Merle: 40,000 men. 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


243 


Third Corps. — Marshal Ney, Duke of Elchingen. 

Divisions Ledru, Razout ; Wurtemberg division, 
General Marchand ; the French divisions were the old 
troops of Lannes and Massena : 57,000 men. 

Fourth Corps. — Prince Eugene, Viceroy of Italy. 

Divisions Delzon and Broussier, the old troops of 
the army of Italy ; Italian division, General Pino ; 
cavalry of the Royal Italian Guard : 45,000 men. 

Fifth Corps.— Prince Poniatowski. 

The Polish army, less one division given to Davout ; 
divisions Sambrousky, Zayouschek, Fischer; 36,000 
men. 

Sixth Corps. — Marshal Gouvion — Saint-Cyr. 

Bavarian corps, divisions Deroi and DeWrede: 
25,000 men. 

Seventh Corps. — General Reynier. 

Saxon corps, divisions Lecoq and Reschen : 20,000 
men. 

Eighth Corps. — King Jerome — afterward suc- 
ceeded by General Junot, Duke of Abrantes. 

Westphalian and Hessian corps, divisions Ochs and 
Damas : 18,000 men. 

Ninth Corps. — Marshal Victor, Duke of Belluno. 

Twelfth French division and wagon trains : 38,000 
men. The Ninth Corps was to keep an eye on Ger- 
many. Marshal Victor was appointed commandant 
of Berlin. 

Tenth Corps. — Marshal McDonald, Duke of Ta- 
ranto. 


244 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


Division Grand jean, Prussian corps of York, and 
troops of the petty German princes : 20,000 men. 

To these ten corps we must add two bodies of troops 
which were worth ten armies ; the reserve cavalry and 
the Imperial Guard. 

The reserve cavalry had at its head the Achilles of 
the' modern Iliad, the chivalrous Murat, . King of 
Naples. Under him were Generals Nansouty, Mont- 
brun, Grouchy and Latour-Maubourg : 17,000 men. 

The Emperor of Austria had furnished his son-in- 
law with 30,000 cavalry, commanded by Prince 
Schwartzenberg, who, at a later period, was to march 
at the head of the armies of the coalition. This cav- 
alry was also under the general command of Murat. 

Lastly, the Imperial Guard, which was in itself an 
army, for it comprised besides the tirailleurs and 
voltigeurs (the Young Guard), and the chasseurs and 
grenadiers (the Old Guard), G,000 horse, 3,000 artillerj\ 
200 pieces of ordnance, and the legion of the Vistula, 
the legendary Polish lancers. 

The Old Guard was commanded by Marshal Lefeb- 
vre, Duke of Dantzig; the Young Guard by Marshal 
Mortier, Duke of Treviso ; the cavalry of the Guard 
by the heroic Bessieres, Duke of Istria. 

We should also include the troops detached to form 
the garrisons of Stettin, Glogau and Erfurt, the 9,000 
horse on the way from Hungary to Hanover, and the 
battalions withdrawn from Spain, as well as the 
battalions in charge of the wagon-trains, the whole 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


245 


forming the reserve corps under the command of Mar- 
shal Augereau, Duke of Castiglione. A Danish division 
also had been placed at Napoleon’s disposition by 
Denmark, to confront Bernadotte, in case the disloyal 
Frenchman should carry out his threat of making a 
descent upon the rear of the army of his countrymen. 

Thus the Grande Armee comprised more than 600,- 
000. It was the most formidable assemblage of fi<dit- 
ing men that had been seen since the barbarian inva- 
sion. 

It will be noticed that the foreign element was 
present in great numbers. There were 50,000 Poles, 

20.000 Italians, 10,000 Swiss, 30,000 Austrians, and 

150.000 Prussians, Bavarians, Saxons, Wurtembergers, 
Westphalians, Croatians and Dutch, and some Span- 
iards and even Portuguese. 

Except the Poles, whose devotion was as worthy of 
admiration as their gallantry, and the Swiss, whose 
fidelity, when once their word was given, was proof 
against everything, none of the foreign regiments were 
to be depended upon. Not only were they ready to 
give way, and even to fire upon the French from be- 
hind, as the Saxons afterwards did, but on the march, 
as well as in camp, they were undisciplined and dis- 
orderly, and sometimes insubordinate. By their ex- 
ample they infected our troops with a taste for free- 
booting and pillage. 

Before hostilities began, at the time of the forward 
movement from the Oder to the Vistula, ordered by 


246 


MARCH ON! MARCH ON ! 


Napoleon, the Wurtembergers of Ney’s corps ravaged 
the Prussian states which they passed through, steal- 
ing, burning, destroying, and driving to exasperation 
the people of Prussia, with whom they were not at 
war. This barbarous conduct of the Wurtembergers, 
who laughed at the cries of grief and shouts of hatred 
which followed their march, for they were directed at 
the French, not at themselves, — this conduct was 
largely instrumental in reawakening German patri- 
otism, and in causing the mad longing for revenge 
upon the French, which was manifested from the year 
1813, in Prussia, where the French name was not 
previously execrated, notwithstanding past victories. 
Indeed our troops were as a general rule well received 
and well treated by the Prussian people. 

The antagonism of these foreign troops was so man- 
ifest that it was necessary to abandon all idea of 
placing the Saxons and Bavarians under the command 
of French generals. They refused to obey orders 
which were not given by German officers. 

It will be seen that but little more than half of the 
troops engaged in the Russian campaign were French : 
about 370,000, with 250,000 of other nations. 

To this fruitful cause of demoralization and disor- 
ganization was added the great embarrassment caused 
by an immense quantity of supplies and munitions. 
The wagons were without number; the roads were 
blocked with caissons , and with light vehicles designed 
for the transportation of provisions, for it was known 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


247 


that the country for which they were bound could not 
be depended upon to supply the necessaries of life. 
Herds of cattle, with which each division was supplied, 
and the material for building bridges stretched out in 
lines of interminable length ; and the carriages of the 
staffs added still further to the difficulties of the 
march and impeded the progress of the wagon-trains. 
Besides the emperor’s staff, the King of Naples, King 
Jerome, Prince Eugene, Marshals Davout, Ney and 
Oudinot, were all provided with vans and wagons 
laden with silver plate, clothing and even with furni- 
ture. Not only the ostentatious Murat, but almost all 
the corps commanders, with the exception of the 
simple-minded and modest Lefebvre, had a suite of 
aides-de-camp , officers, secretaries and personal ser- 
vants, whose luggage helped to swell the endless pro- 
cession, as it wound its way through the marshy 
country. The pompous display of the generals of the 
empire had a noticeable effect upon the equipages of 
the inferior officers. At every halting place sumptuous 
tables were spread with services of gold and silver 
plate. Carpets, carved bedsteads, couches, and chests 
containing fine clothes and linen in profusion, formed 
the camp baggage of these too ostentatious officers. 
It seemed to be not so much an army of fighting men 
marching against Russia, as a sort of immense caravan, 
composed of men of all nations, where the different 
dialects were mingled in a confused medley of sounds, 
where all varieties of uniforms marched side by side, 


248 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


where the merchandise, the products, even the works 
of art, of twenty nations were heaped up together as 
in a vast moving bazar. The camp had the appear- 
ance of a world’s fair ; and when the signal to break 
camp was given, and this mass of men slowly and 
heavily resumed its march, then was reproduced the 
spectacle of one of the great emigrations of ancient 
times, the exodus of a whole people from its native 
land, with no hope of returning, and carrying away, 
in addition to its weapons, its treasures and its gods. 
For the vast majority of these emigrants, alas ! there 
was to be, in very truth, no returning ; it was their 
final exodus. 

Behind the heterogeneous equipages of the staffs 
came a vast horde, already in a lamentably ragged 
plight, of cantinieres , traders, Jews and sutlers, with 
women, children and animals. All this swarming 
mob, doomed to be swallowed up in the Beresina, 
were perched upon wretched carts, drawn by beasts of 
fantastic appearance, sometimes by cattle, sometimes 
by men who took turns at * hauling extraordinary 
vehicles, which recalled the uncouth chariots of the 
Huns and Vandals. 

Napoleon had incredible difficulty in relieving the 
army of this dead weight which paralyzed its move- 
ment. He made strict regulations limiting the num- 
ber of carriages according to rank and grade, from 
kings down to generals. He designated the quantity 
of luggage each officer might carry. He dismissed 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


249 


the diplomatists, the amateur aides-de-camp , the secre- 
taries, who had joined the various staffs through 
curiosity, through desire to witness the new conquest, 
and in many instances, for most of them were foreign- 
ers, with the purpose of acting as spies for the benefit 
of their respective governments. He cut his head- 
quarters in two ; he kept with him only those aides-de- 
camp whose presence was indispensable ; the rest of 
his suite were to follow at a distance and join him in 
the towns where a halt was made. Always extremely 
simple in his mode of life, amid the luxury of his 
creatures, he slept upon his narrow iron bedstead, and 
had no other baggage in his tent than four great chests 
containing his maps and all the rest of his topographi- 
cal material which he always kept within reach. 

The fatal plan of campaign, which Neipperg, Ros 
topchine and Armsfeld had advised Alexander to 
adopt, was carried out to the letter. General Barclay 
de Tolly, a cool-headed and steadfast officer, but ex- 
tremely unpopular, was ordered to decline to fight 
under any circumstances. He faithfully followed this 
temporizing plan, which in the olden time won Fabius 
renown, but which is not calculated to excite the en- 
thusiasm of the mob nor to impress the imagination. 
They judiciously abandoned the plan proposed by the 
German Pi'ulh of forming an intrenched camp at 
Drissa in the bend of the Duna. The Russians fell 
back as the French advanced. 

Napoleon devised a bold manoeuvre. The Russian 


250 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


army was divided into two corps ; one, commanded by 
Barclay de Tolly, lay to the northward — that is to say 
in the country watered by the Duna, a stream which 
flows into the Baltic — and stretched from Witebsk to 
Dunabourg: the other, under Prince Bagration, lay 
to the southward, from the Dnieper, which flows into 
the Black Sea, to Grodno on the Niemen. Napoleon’s 
plan was to prevent the junction of Barclay de Tolly 
and Prince Bagration, and fight them separately. He 
proposed to cross the Duna suddenly on Barclay de 
Tolly’s left, and surround his army in its entrenched 
camp at Drissa, a veritable pocket in which the Rus- 
sian general had shut himself up. Once there he 
would be master of the roads to St. Petersburg and 
Moscow, and could intercept the lines of communica- 
tion with those cities, while Davout and King Jerome 
should join forces and fight Prince Bagration on the 
Dneiper. 

This twofold operation was admirable in its con- 
ception, but to be successful it was necessary that the 
enemy should consent to fight. Whereas the enemy 
continued to follow his original plan and stole away. 

At the same time a deplorable dissension occurred 
in the French army. Displeased with what he con- 
sidered inexcusable delay on the part of King Jerome 
in effecting his junction with Marshal Davout, the em- 
peror dismissed his brother from the command of his 
corps and placed him under the marshal’s orders. 
The King of Westphalia declined to submit to this 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


251 


disgrace and resigned his commission. This dispute 
between Davout and Jerome was sufficiently prolonged 
to allow Prince Bagration to escape, and to take ad- 
vantage of six or seven days’ start to descend the 
Dnieper. Thus the first part of the plan, the annihila- 
tion of the Army of the South, and the cutting off com- 
munication between Bagration and Barclay de Tolly 
had entirely failed of success. The second and most 
important part remained to be attempted — the sur- 
rounding of the northern army in the cul-de-sac at 
Drissa. 

But the Russian commander had already abandoned 
the ill-advised scheme of intrenching himself at Drissa ; 
the German Pfulli, who had given in his adhesion to 
the plan of Neipperg and the others, himself urged 
Alexander to evacuate that position. Napoleon, be- 
fore whom the enemy persisted in retreating, had 
therefore no choice but to pursue him. 

The heat was terribly oppressive. It was July. 
The army perspired and suffered as much from thirst 
as from heat, during that pursuit across the plains, 
over which the snow would ere long stretch its white 
winding sheet. Ah ! no one foresaw, on the verdant 
banks of the Beresina, where the soldiers quenched 
their thirst and bathed to their heart’s content, that 
before six months had passed, that same river, frozen 
solid, would open like a marble tomb, to receive bv 
cart loads the stiffened, bruised and bleeding bodies of 
those same jovial fellows who were singing at the top 


252 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


of their voices, crying out for cool weather and rain 
and shade, and cursing the Muscovite sun which re- 
minded the older men of the scorching heat of Aboukir 
and Jaffa. 

As impatient to meet the enemy as .Napoleon him- 
self, the grenadiers and chasseurs asked themselves 
every morning if the day of the great battle had 
dawned at last. They remembered how things had 
come about in Italy, Holland, Austria, Prussia, and 
they did not doubt that a day like Marengo, Austerlitz 
or Friedland would place all Russia at the emperor’s 
mercy. There was naught for them to do but to 
polish their cross-belts, so that they might make a 
fitting impression upon the fair Muscovites as they 
marched past on the day of their triumphant entry 
into the capital of the czars. 

But the battle was postponed from day to day. 
One morning they had a gleam of hope that the enemy 
would be courteous enough to- wait for them to come 
up and fight. There had been sharp engagements at 
various points, at the mill of Fatowa, at Mohilew, at 
Ostrowno, but they were mere skirmishes, accidental 
encounters. Their result, although generally favorable 
to the French, was of little moment. 

Before Witebsk, on July 27th, it seemed for a mo- 
ment as if a great battle were beginning. They could 
see the steeples of Witebsk, which is the capital of the 
province of that name, and a town of considerable 
size on the Duna. It contained eight or ten convents, 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


253 


and several churches, Roman and Greek, as well as 
synagogues. There were some fifteen thousand Jews 
there. It lies amid a beautiful country. Beyond the 
ravine, a vast plain stretches to the east, and through 
it runs a small stream. Behind this stream the Rus- 
sian army could be seen in a solid mass. . At last then 
they were to come face to face ! Nearly a hundred 
thousand men were apparently ready to march out in 
order of battle on the plain of Witebsk. The troops 
shouted for joy. It seemed to them that certain vic- 
tory lay at the end of their musket-barrels. 

Napoleon mounted, and personally assumed charge 
of the affair, which promised to be serious. 

While a bridge over the ravine was being repaired, 
to allow Nansouty’s cavalry to cross, three hundred 
men marched forward on the left. They were imme- 
diately surrounded by a cloud of Cossacks, like drift- 
wood in an overflowed stream. But the gallant fel- 
lows did not break ; though enveloped by a whole 
army, they formed in close order and kept up a con- 
stant fire. The Cossacks could not br-eak through 
that marching redoubt which belched forth flame and 
bullets. 

Napoleon, glass in hand, saw the peril of those 
three hundred soldiers, cut off from the army, and 
drowning in the Russian cavalry. He crossed the ra- 
vine with the 16th Chasseurs, dispersed the Cossacks, 
and rescued the venturesome scouts. 

“Who are you, my brave boys?” the emperor 


254 


MARCH ON! MARCH ON ! 


asked, well pleased to see them emerge alive from that 
forest of lances and sabres. 

“ Voltigeurs of the 9 th of the Line, all Paris obys ! ” 
the sergeant replied. 

“Well, my little Parisians, yon all deserve the 
Cross,” said the emperor, with beaming face. “ Now, 
follow me! the road to Moscow is open. Forward ! ” 

But already, behind its curtain of Cossacks, the 
Russian army was falling back, melting away, vanish- 
ing. 

The great battle was not to take place on that day. 

Napoleon’s face clouded, and he made his entry 
into Witebsk, the capital of White Russia, a prey to 
gloomy forebodings. 

As always, the Russians as they retired set fire to 
the evacuated city. But the vanguard was so close 
upon them that they barely had time to burn a few 
houses in the suburbs. 

The Grande Armee resumed its march. The coun- 
try was deserted and the whole army was profoundly 
depressed. The Reaumur thermometer marked 27 
degrees. Water became scarce, and the supply of 
bread ran low. The army suffered from fatigue-, from 
heat, and from the utter dreariness of the surroundings. 
The awful retreat through the snow-covered fields 
effaced the memories of the advance, but at that time 
the heat was intense and the suffering very great. 
The endless journey was lengthened by all the 
wretchedness of hunger, thirst and weariness. Horses 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


255 


fell along the road, and the stragglers werQ innumer- 
able. At the same time the army became discour- 
aged, for they began to believe that they would never 
overtake, never surround Barclay de Tolly. 

The return march from Moscow was not the only 
terrible episode of the Russian campaign, a long suc- 
cession of painful experiences. There was an ascend- 
ing and a descending slope to that Calvary, and al- 
though the latter was far worse, the former was bad 
enough ; and if the doleful story of the return alone 
has remained in the memory of mankind, the disasters 
of the advance are worthy of being recalled. It is 
true that on the forward journey the desert was re- 
lieved by oases in the way of brief engagements, and 
that the star of hope, soon to be extinguished forever, 
at intervals guided the wandering steps of the con- 
querors. 

The officers, even the marshals, were as depressed 
as the common soldiers. 

Berthier, Prince of Wagram, a major-general, was 
among the loudest in his complaints and recrimina- 
tions. 

This officer, whose role has been gratuitously ampli- 
fied by certain historians, who have credited him with 
the possession of military talents which he did not 
possess, was in reality only a sort of military secretary 
to Napoleon. He never gave an order himself, or 
wrote a despatch except at the emperor’s dictation. 
Not only did the great enterprises and projects, the 


256 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


important decisions, pass his comprehension, but the 
same thing is true of the details of organization or of 
a campaign. The emperor did everything, knew 
everything, overlooked everything, issued all orders. 
It is doubtless true that Berthier was the first one to 
be made acquainted with several of his contemplated 
operations. But Napoleon never consulted him ; nor 
would Berthier ever have ventured to criticise or op- 
pose a military operation which the emperor deemed 
advisable. In that Berthier showed good sense. 

In 1814, at Fontainebleau, this military scribe, this 
confidential friend of the great strategist, abandoned 
the man to whom he owed everything. Gratitude and 
fidelity were not found among the baggage of the 
chief-of-staff after the defeat of his general. 

At Witebsk, where Napoleon ordered a halt, to 
allow the troops to rest and to give the stragglers 
time to come up, Marshal Lefebvre entered the house 
where the Prince of Wagram had his quarters. 

Lefebvre had just left the emperor, after receiving 
his last orders as to moving forward with the Guard. 

“Well, prince! well, old fellow!” said Lefebvre 
gayly, as he entered Berthier’s room, “ we must pack 
our knapsacks and start off with the left foot — ” 

“ Still forward ! ” said Berthier in a discouraged 
tone. “ Where does the emperor propose to take us 
now ? ” 

“To Smolensk.” 

The major-general, who had risen to receive his col- 



• * 


W E 


MUST PACK OUR KNAPSACKS AND START OFF 

THE LEFT FOOT . 99 


WI'I II 
























. 

1 









MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


257 


league, dropped upon a chair by the table on which 
the map of Russia was spread out. 

“ What was the use,” he muttered, “ of giving me 
an income of fifteen hundred thousand livres, a fine 
house at Paris, a magnificent estate, to inflict the suf- 
fering of Tantalus upon me ? I shall die in harness : 
the common soldier’s lot is happier than mine ! ” 

As Lefebvre made a gesture expressive of the 
fanatical devotion and indifference to suffering of the 
soldier ready to follow his chief blindly, north or 
south, or wherever it may please him to pitch his tent 
and plant his flag, Berthier added with a pitiful sigh : 
u Ah ! how I wish I was at Grosbois ! ” 

Grosbois was a superb estate in the neighborhood 
of Paris, presented by the emperor to his friend Ber- 
thier. 

Thus the very liberality of the sovereign, and the 
magnificent gifts with which he rewarded his lieuten- 
ants, worked against his plans, and took away from 
them upon whose energy he most relied, the tenacity 
of purpose and endurance, which were more than ever 
necessary in that rash journey across Europe into the 
steppes and snow-drifts of Russia. 

Berthier — “the gosling of whom I tried to make 
an eagle,” says Napoleon, — - having summoned his sec- 
retaries Salomon and Ledru, gruffly gave orders for 
the army to resume its march. 

Then he went with Lefebvre to the emperor’s head- 
quarters, where he was expected. 


258 MARCH on! march on! 

They found Napoleon thoughtful and gloomy. 

It seemed as if he had even then a presentiment of 
the disastrous retreat in his far-seeing brain. He be- 
gan to understand that fortune, weary of following 
him, was changing her camp. A voice within him 
cried: “Stop! it is time! you must! ” But another 
voice, no less powerful but more heeded, the voice of 
pride, of audacity, of self-confidence, the voice which 
had whispered softly in his ear from the Adige to the 
Nile, from the Tagus to the Vistula, an ill-omened 
siren, whispered now : “ March on ! march on ! Plunge 
ever deeper into . the land of your dreams, and push 
back the confines of the world, if need be, to fulfil 
your mission ! ” Like the man of whom Bossuet 
speaks, who is driven on by an irresistible force until 
he reaches the pit where all those whom circumstances 
have separated for a moment, have fallen in together, 
he went on and on, his eyes lost in the vastness of his 
vision. He was a poet, an illumine , a fakir of con- 
quest, a dervish whose brain revolved with the axis of 
the world, and who lost his equilibrium, and all per- 
ception of the distinction between the real and. the 
unreal, in the chaos in which he was now living. 

lie received the two marshals less abruptly than 
usual, but with a melancholy mien that sat strangely 
upon him. 

“Well, my friends, what do they say in the army? 
Are the men content to go forward and make an end 
of this terrible war ? ” he said, with a questioning look 
at Berthier and Lefebvre. 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


259 


Berthier, always a courtier, bowed and replied : 
u Sire, the army is happy to know that your 
Majesty is in good In alth, and expects that a great 
victory will soon make it possible for you to conclude 
a glorious peace and lead us back to France.” 

“ Peace ! I would it might be so,” muttered the 
emperor ; I have always wished for it, whatever may 
be said ; but can I lead my troops back without a 
battle, and shamefacedly evacuate Germany as Alex- 
ander demanded? I can conclude peace nowhere 
except in a capital — St. Petersburg or Moscow. We 
are on the road to Moscow ; we will go to Moscow ! 
Is that your opinion, Lefebvre ? ” 

“ I am always of your Majesty’s opinion,” said 
Lefebvre, with a hesitating manner which was by no 
means usual with him, “ but — ” 

“ But what ? Come ! tell me what you have on 
your lips — on your heart. You know, old comrade, 
that you have always spoken your mind to me, whether 
at the house on Rue Chantereine, on the morning of 
the 18 th Brumaire — ” 

When your Majesty gave me your sword ! ” 

‘‘ Yes — or after Jena, or before Dantzig — ” 

“ Where your Majesty gave me my title. Oh ! I 
forget none of your generous deeds, none of the tokens 
of your friendship, sire,” cried the Duke of Dantzig, 
impulsively ; “ that is why I keep what I know to my- 
self, and bite my tongue lest I may let my fears 
escape from my mouth.” 


260 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


Napoleon walked up to Lefebvre, placed his hand 
upon his shoulder, and said to him in one of those rare 
outbursts of frank and expansive confidence with his 
lieutenants, which he had nowhere but in Russia : 

“ You are wrong, my good Lefebvre, to hold your 
tongue and repress your thoughts before me. Come! 
I can listen to anything ! Since I set foot in this 
accursed Russia, I am not the same man. Formerly I 
doubted others, now I doubt myself. I no longer feel 
that I control events ; something is wanting ; I am 
like a man awakened in the midst of a frightful 
nightmare, and I know not where the dream ends and 
reality begins. You must support me, you must help 
me to see clearly in this fog, my faithful old comrades 
in twenty years of battles. Tell me, prince, what is 
the condition of the army ? I wish to know ! ” 

“ Sire, the morale is excellent as always,” said 
Berthier, “ but desertions are numerous, and the strag- 
glers are spreading the habit of insubordination and 
marauding in all directions.” 

“ Shoot a few of them as examples ! But the 
staunch, true, gallant fellows aren’t thinking of pillag- 
ing or of abandoning the flag, are they ? ” 

“ No, sire, but they are grumbling.” 

“ Parbleu ! they are my grumblers, my dear grum- 
blers ! ” said Napoleon with a smile ; “ we must let 
them complain as they please, and even speak ill of 
me. They grumble, but they follow me ! They call 
me foolish, insane, ambitious — oh ! 1 know myself ! — 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


261 


but they win battles for me. Marshal, you command 
my Guard ; what do my guards say ? what do they 
want ? ” 

“ Faith ! sire, since you ask the question, and as you 
already know that they are grumbling, I will tell you 
that they are tired of running after these Russians, 
who melt away at our approach.” 

“ Oh ! we shall overtake them ! ” 

“ Who knows ? Every day we expect a battle and 
it’s always postponed. We say to ourselves : ‘ It will 
be to-morrow.’ But when will that to-morrow come ? ” 

“ We will hasten it along ! At Smolensk probably, 
at Moscow unquestionably, we shall come up with the 
Russians and fight them,” said Napoleon, with con- 
viction. 

At that moment, in the presence of facts that con- 
tradicted his statements, he was like the searcher after 
chimeras when any one dares dispute the possibility 
that his search may be successful. A poet in action, 
a novelist with the sword, he imagined that the most 
foolhardy schemes were feasible and looked upon them 
as already carried out before they were begun ; im- 
probable hypotheses became certainties in his mind ; 
he embarked with serene self-confidence upon journeys 
through the impossible, and from the moment of de- 
parture considered that he had reached his destination. 
At that moment he experienced something like the 
cerebral excitement of the author in the throes of 
composition, the fascination of the gambler before the 


262 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


green cloth covered with gold, the ecstacy of the de- 
votee contemplating the tabernacle ; he was an honest 
braggart, and like the legendary liar, this most imagi- 
native of mortals treated the clouds which floated 
before his mind, the extraordinary inventions of his 
disordered brain, as if they were condensed into definite 
facts, resolved into events that had actually come to 
pass. 

Lefebvre shook his head when he heard Napoleon 
speak with such certainty of the prospects of a battle 
under the walls of Moscow. 

“ Meanwhile,” said he, “ these cursed candle-eaters 
break camp as soon as we come in sight ! Their 
pranks have a bad look to me. They go off, only to 
return again in greater number, and more to be feared 
perhaps ! These Cossacks are like the mosquitoes on 
a summer evening ; they attack us and hum about our 
heads. We put up our hand to strike them and they 
fly out of reach. We go to sleep peacefully and trust- 
fully and they come back in greater swarms than ever 
and we are pricked and bled and sucked while we are 
asleep! We are wearing ourselves out by not fight- 
ing, sire ; when they see that we are reduced in num- 
ber, weakened and half-starved, these damned Cossack 
mosquitoes will come buzzing around us all the more 
fiercely ! That’s the danger, sire, and every one 
sees it ! ” 

“ And you will allow jmurselves to be beaten by 
mosquitoes ! you heroes ! ” 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


263 


“ Sire, it takes but a little thing, too much heat or 
cold, insufficient food or sleep, to change an army of 
brave men *into a wretched horde of strao^lers and 
cripples ! Russia is too big a place, you see. W e are 
simply wearing out our shoes chasing after them. It’s 
easy to see their scheme now ; as they are too weak 
to resist us and have no soldiers to put into the field, 
they are fighting us by running away. But they are 
at home, they have plenty of food and find re-enforce- 
ments as they fall back ; but we are six hundred 
leagues from hom \ and can only crumble away and 
grow less, like a loaf that has been dragged about in a 
b;ig for weeks. Sire, Time, the great master, as they 
call him, weakens us and strengthens our enemies. The 
Russian; army and ours are like two snow-balls, but 
ours is melting while theirs is growing larger.” 

“ There is truth in what you say, Lefebvre. But 
what do you propose ? Have you any plan ? any 
idea ? ” 

Honest Lefebvre made a despairing gesture that 
was almost comic in its earnestness. 

“ An idea ! a plan ! I ! oh, no ! That’s your affair, 
for you are our emperor. Tell us what we must do, 
and we will do it ! ” 

“ How is it with you, Berthier ? Perhaps, as ma- 
jor-general, you have your own way of looking at 
the matter, and your own opinion as to the proper 
conduct of the war, and how it may be brought to an 
end in such a way as to maintain such advantages as 
we have acquired ? ” 


264 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


“I am of Lefebvre’s opinion,” Berthier replied, 
“ and like him I see the risk we run in going forward. 
Our effective force is reduced nearly half, and we 
haven’t fought a battle ! The heat does more injury 
than the Cossack lances or the Russian artillery.” 

“ And they said it was cold in Russia ! ” muttered 
Lefebvre. “ Ah ! body and blood ! when will the 
wind change to northerly ? ” 

“ Sooner than you and I care to have it,” said Na- 
poleon ; “but come, Prince of Wagram, I ask your 
opinion ; what do you advise me to do ? ” 

“ I think that our wisest course would be to stop 
while there is still time,” replied Berthier, making 
bold to proffer the advice which the whole army seemed 
to wish to see followed. 

“ And that is your opinion also, Lefebvre ? ” 

“ Yes, sire — to halt is not to retreat. Here we are 
at the dividing line between Poland and Muscovy; 
we are standing on the threshold of Russia. Let us 
fortify ourselves here ; provisions and forage are plenti- 
ful, and the army will take on new strength. Me 
shall be protected against any offensive movement on 
the part of the Russians, as our flanks rest on the 
Duna and the Dneiper ; to keep our men busy we can 
march north and take Riga, which is not defended as 
Dantzig was, and send an expedition south to Volhy- 
nia, and when we go into winter quarters, reconstitute 
Poland!” 

“ Poland ! — the murder is out at last ! ” cried Nu- 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


265 


poleon. “ Pcirbleu ! you fancy that it’s a simple 
matter to put Poland on its feet again- You mean to 
suggest that I should reconstitute the Kingdom of 
Poland, do you ? ” 

“ Sire,” said Lefebvre in a more emphatic tone, 
“ the Poles have fought gallantly in our ranks and you 
owe them something. The partition of their country 
was a crime on the part of the kings who did it, and 
it belongs to us to undo it ; you are in duty bound to 
restore these exiles to their own, to give back to them 
the land where their fathers’ bones are laid. It is not 
simply a question of humanity, of justice, of gratitude, 
it is a question also of the welfare of Western Europe, 
of safety for France, of eternal glory for your Ma- 
jesty ! ” . 

Napoleon, upon hearing such views thus firmly ex- 
pressed by Marshal Lefebvre, in whom survived the 
old republican of the year II, the volunteer of the re- 
publican army rushing to the deliverance of oppressed 
peoples, flushed with vexation. 

“ But can I reconstitute the Kingdom of Poland ? ” 
he exclaimed. “ Oh ! I know that that kingdom would 
be an impassable barrier if fate should ever turn against 
our arms, and Alexander should assume the offensive 
and undertake to march across Europe against an en- 
feebled, faction-ridden France. When I am dead, who 
will dare foretell the destiny of this immense empire, 
which I shall leave behind me, my heir being perhaps still 
a child ? Yes, Poland reconstituted would be the safe- 


266 


MARCH on! MAKCH ON ! 


guard of my throne and the bulwark of my empire ; but 
the Poles are divided among themselves — the country 
is torn asunder by bitter dissensions — the soldiers are 
for us, but the middle classes and the peasants look 
upon us with suspicion. The nobles are all at war 
with each other — even the shrewdest can come to no 
understanding — their general diet led to nothing but 
confusion and disorder. And then have I not entered 
into binding engagements with the Emperor of Austria ? 
I informed the deputies of the Polish Confederation 
at Wilna that I had guaranteed the Emperor of Austria 
the integrity of his dominions, and I could not dream 
of sanctioning any manoeuvre, any plan which would 
tend to disturb him in the peaceable possession of what 
he still retains of the Polish provinces. No, for the 
moment there can be no thought of the Kingdom of 
Poland ! Let the Poles wait until victory crowns our 
arms ; their fate will be decided at Moscow ! ” 

Moscow ! that name rang a fatal refrain in Napo- 
leon’s dreams, was ever present in his thoughts, and 
came constantly to his lips. The vision of Moscow 
made him giddy, intoxicated him, and drowned the 
voices of reason, policy and foresight. 

Thus the great blunder was formally determined 
upon and consummated. Had the Russian campaign 
been suspended, the march upon Moscow postponed 
or perhaps abandoned altogether, the Grande Armee , 
after revictualling and recruiting at Witebsk, would 
have had the well-stocked storehouses of Wilna and 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


267 


Warsaw to draw upon during the winter. The Rus- 
sian army fleeing, demoralized — Alexander forced to 
retreat with no hope of a victorious return — :and 
above all, the vast expanse of Poland, restored to its 
own sixteen millions of people resolved to fight till 
death for their independence, in case the Russians 
should resume the offensive — such was the prospect 
Fortune still offered Napoleon. At Witebsk nothing 
was lost, nothing was compromised even, but he should 
have halted on the road to Moscow, he should have 
had the courage to make the monarchs, who benefited 
by the monstrous crime of 1768, disgorge, he should 
not have feared to make Poland a power once more. 

Everything seemed calculated to lead Napoleon to 
adopt this wise course. Unfortunately the fatal con- 
sequences of the Austrian marriage threw their whole 
weight in the balance and decided the destiny of 
France. 

To reconstitute Poland, to annul the hateful treaty 
of partition of the preceding century, it would have 
been necessary to take from Russia and Prussia those 
provinces which formed their shares of the spoils. If 
these two powers only had been concerned, Napoleon 
doubtless would have had iio scruples. But he was 
confronted also by the necessity of forcing Austria to 
restore the avails of her complicity in the crime. 
What would Marie-Louise say when her father com- 
plained to her of being despoiled of Galicia by Napo- 
leon ? Would not the kings of Europe consider it un- 


268 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


becoming conduct on his part to take that jewel from 
his father-in-law’s crown? Would he not then ap- 
pear to these monarchs, whose friendship and esteem 
he was foolish, nay, mad enough, to dream of obtain- 
ing, like the enthroned Jacobin, the Robespierre on 
horseback he was anxious not to resemble ? He had 
succeeded in obtaining a foothold in the brotherhood 
of kings by breaking down the doors ; he was innocent 
enough to deem himself one of them, and to imagine 
that they would forgive him for having taken by 
assault, like a city, the daughter of a genuine emperor ; 
by this disingenuous provisional alliance, intended to 
endure only so long as his victories and his power en- 
dured, he felt called upon to use the utmost circum- 
spection and consideration, and almost to accept a 
share of the responsibility for the partition of Poland. 
Although a vanquisher of kings, he deemed himself 
their brother ; he could not, he foolishly thought, con- 
fiscate their provinces to give them to rebels. When 
he made kings of his own brothers, he strengthened 
his dynasty, he followed in the footsteps of the found- 
ers of great empires, he did not serve the cause of 
those who would do away with kings. Ify an alliance 
with the Poles, by dismembering not only the Russian 
empire and Prussia, but the Empire of Austria, he 
would betray the interests of the sovereigns at whose 
head he placed himself! So much the worse for the 
Poles, but Marie-Louise’s father could not be sacrificed 
for them — his domains were /sacred. Thus did the 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


269 


fortunate soldier blind himself to his true interests. 
He did not dream that these kings regarded him with 
a feeling of horror which was quite equal to their fear 
of him and their base servility. 

This fatal reasoning was destined to start Napoleon 
down the incline, up which he could not again struggle. 
The end was approaching. Marie-Louise at Saint- 
Cloud contributed to the ruin of her husband, and 
snatched the crown from the King of Rome’s curly 
head. 

Napoleon, without frankly avowing that his reason 
for refusing to re-establish the throne of Poland was 
founded upon his fear of displeasing Marie-Louise, 
combined with his desire to make himself agreeable to 
his father-in-law — who, three years later, without a 
word of protest or suggestion of clemency to his royal 
allies, allowed him to be deported to a lonely rock, 
and to die there, absolutely deserted — Napoleon, we 
say, informed Lefebvre and Berthier that he under- 
stood their arguments, that he admitted their force for 
the most part, but that he could not make up his mind 
to suspend his march, or to go into permanent quarters 
at Witebsk. 

“ In the first place,” said he, with animation, “ it 
would be no such simple matter as you suppose. The 
Duna and Dnieper would protect us in summer ; but 
in winter the rivers would be frozen over, and would 
be nothing more nor less than open roads for the Rus- 
sians. The French are inclined to action. They can’t 


270 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 



remain inactive through the long winter months. 
Desertions and marauding would increase enormously. 
Our effective force, already somewhat reduced, would 
dwindle away to nothing. It is now August. The 
campaign is only beginning. What will France think, 
to learn that we have turned back at the outset? She 
is accustomed to swift action of another sort. People 
will say that I am sick, played out, a degenerate 
leader of a demoralized army, seeking rest at Capua, 
before I have come near Rome. Europe will doubt 
my continued success. Spain, which is in a turmoil, 
will take advantage of our stagnation in a distant land, 
and England, on the banks of the Guadalquiver, will 
render the crossing of the Nieroen of no effect. And 
furthermore, will not the endless factions, which have 
never laid down their arms, seek to incite disturbance 
by propagating alarming reports ? It is impossible 
that the head of a mighty empire should remain away 
from his capital, unless there is constant news of vic- 
tory upon victory to let his people know that he is 
still alive, still conquering! No! my friends, it is 
alike impossible for me to halt here, or to fall back. 
Glory and salvation for us lie before us. Berthier, 
prepare marching orders for to-morrow ! Lefebvre, 
place my guard under arms ; in a fortnight we will 
enter Smolensk together ! a month hence I will meet 
my brave fellows at the Kremlin ! ” 

The die was cast and France had lost. 

On August 16th the army sat down before the cita- 
del of Smolensk. 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


271 


Smolensk lies upon the Dnieper at the foot of a con- 
siderable elevation, and was at this time partly sur- 
rounded by walls, with suburbs of great extent. A 
bridge connected the old with the new city. The 
ancient wall was flanked by towers. A Byzantine 
cathedral towered above palaces, public buildings and 
houses. Smolensk was one of the most ancient of 
v Russian cities and was held in almost as great venera- 
tion as Moscow. And so Barclay de Tolly, who did 
not conceal his distaste for the plan of constant retreat 
which he was compelled to carry out, resolved to make 
a pretense of defending the city. 

The Russians heroically resisted the attack of the 
French. They Fad to do with Davout, with the di- 
visions of Gudin, Morand and Friant, the flower of 
the French army, and Napoleon, in person, directed 
the attack. 

After a stubborn battle lasting six hours, night 
came on, and the decisive assault was postponed until 
the following morning. 

General Haxo had discovered an old breach in the 
ramparts, the Sigismund breach, and the men of 
Friant’s division were to enter the city at that point. 

But at midnight an ominous glare suffused the sky. 
The French at first took it for some celestial phe- 
nomenon, a huge meteor, or a brilliant display of the 
Aurora Borealis. But soon a bright red light over- 
spread the landscape, as the roaring flames mounted 
higher and higher into the air. Barclay de Tolly, 


272 


MARCH ON! MARCH ON ! 


having received explicit orders to that effect, was 
obeying the terrible inspiration which had suggested 
to Russia the only feasible means of salvation. He 
had decided to resume his retrograde movement, and 
to leave Napoleon once more confronted with empty 
space. On evacuating Smolensk he left behind him a 
most effective rear guard in the shape of burning 
buildings. General Fire, as Rostopchine had pre- 
dicted, was doing its perfect work. The road to Mos- 
cow was lighted by voluntary conflagrations. Rather 
than allow their city to be taken the Russians burned 
it to the ground. During the night, while the patriotic 
incendiaries were putting the torch to the empty 
houses, the inhabitants, at Barclay de Tolly’s com- 
mand, fled the city, carrying' with them what they 
could of their furniture and clothes. The ruddy re- 
treat went on. Russia became a vast funeral pyre, 
before transforming itself into a snow-covered sepulchre. 
Combatants and non-combatants vanished in the inter- 
minable plains ; houses, villages, cities were trans- 
formed into smoking ruins. On all sides the Grande 
Armee as it advanced encountered devastation and 
solitude, and conquered only dead bodies and heaps of 
ashes. 

The entry of Napoleon and his soldiers into the 
evacuated, burning city, resembled not at all one of 
the triumphal entries of former days. At Smolensk 
he had a vision, in some sort a rehearsal, of the 
tragedy of Moscow. There again, after this battle, 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


273 


which was a victory and might appear at a distance 
even more considerable than it really was, Napoleon 
might have called a halt. 

But he was almost at the gates of Moscow. Had 
he led his invincible soldiers so far, after so much 
fatigue and danger, and so many victories, to be con- 
tent with only a partial triumph, and to idle away the 
winter in cantonments ? The days were long and 
warm. The Russians had lost many men in the 
numerous skirmishes within a month. They could not 
continue to fall back in this way forever. And then, 
at Moscow they would be in a position to force a 
peace. Alexander, dispossessed of the holy city of 
his empire, could not determine upon endless retreat. 
He would negotiate terms of peace in the capital of 
the czars, and there Napoleon would go into winter 
quarters. Europe would be struck with admiration to 
receive decrees dated from, the Kremlin. Whereas, 
the news that the Grande Armee and the emperor 
were shut up in Smolensk, a ruined city, could produce 
only distrust, and people would begin to doubt his 
ultimate success. 

Another fact confirmed Napoleon in his determina- 
tion to push forward to Moscow. 

He learned that Koutousoff had replaced Barclay 
de Tolly as commander-in-chief. To satisfy Russian 
patriotism, which looked on in dismay at the spectacle 
of Alexander’s retreating without a battle, and waxed 
wroth over the prospect of the entry of the French 


274 


MARCH ON ! MARCH ON ! 


into. Moscow almost without winning a victory, the 
new general determined to await the French army 
upon the hills which commanded the road to that city. 
There a battle, which might very probably prove to 
be decisive, should be fought. The fate of Moscow 
and of Russia should be put to the touch, and on the 
evening of that great day, the country, freed from the 
danger which threatened it, would hail its emperor 
with joyful acclaim, or Alexander would be compelled 
to sue for peace. 

But all the generals, Ney at their head, brought in 
unfavorable reports. They strove to change Napo- 
leon’s resolution. The losses were considerable. The 
horses were falling by thousands, because of the 
scarcity of provender. The artillery was constantly 
stuck in the swamps. Everything was soaked with 
rain. The ravages of fever were more severe than 
those of cannon-balls. Why not fall back upon Smo- 
lensk ? 

Napoleon seemed for an instant to yield to the argu- 
ments of his lieutenants, and at last he said : 

“ True, the season is far from favorable to our 
designs ; the country is absolutely deserted, and these 
endless swamps are intolerable. If the weather does 
not change to-morrow, I will give orders to return to 
Smolensk.” 

Unfortunately the weather changed. The next 
morning, September 4th, the bright sun gilded the 
tents of the Grande Armee, and made the weapons 


MARCH OX ! MARCH ON ! 


275 


flash gayly. A brisk wind dried up the roads. Hope 
and high sp rits returned with the sunshine. 

“ We cannot fall back in such weather as this ! ” 
exclaimed Napoleon joyously, seizing the pretext to 
withdraw the promise he had given, and delighted at 
the removal of all obstacles to his onward march. 
“Come! Davout, Murat, have , a little nerve! For- 
ward! We shall soon overtake the Russians and 
shall recuperate at Moscow ! ” 

Thereupon, with renewed confidence, he gave orders 
to march forward upon the Moskowa, a stream which 
flows through Moscow and winds about in the neighbor- 
ing plains. The battle was to be fought at a village 
called Borodino, where Koutousoff lay entrenched with 
the whole Russian army. 

The sun, like the snow at a later period, formed an 
alliance with the Russians. 

If the rain had persisted, making it impossible for 
his artillery to traverse the marshes, Napoleon would 
probably have decided to return and go into winter 
quarters at Smolensk. Unless terms of peace had 
been agreed ujmn, the war would have been prolonged 
into 1813, when the conditions would have been much 
more favorable. 

But fate willed otherwise. The sun of Austerlitz 
had changed sides. 


XIV. 


THE EMPEROR IS DEAD. 

General Malet remained in his chamber with 
his wife after Ilenriot’s departure. 

Madame Malet was acquainted with all his plans, 
but did not know the details. She simply knew that 
her husband’s aim was to overthrow the empire, but 
was entirely ignorant of the method by which he pro- 
posed to bring about that result. 

“ It is decided ! ” said the general abruptly. “ This 
evening I shall make my escape, my dear wife, and try 
to set free this enslaved nation ! ” 

Madame Malet gave a slight shriek, but neither 
tears nor entreaties escaped her. She was determined 
not to paralyze her husband’s action by any symptoms 
of weakness on her own part. She simply asked him, 
with some anxiety and dread of failure : 

“ Have you a fair chance of success ? Is there any 
news ? ” 

“ Great news ! The emperor is dead ! ” 

“ Is it possible ? ” murmured Madame Malet. 

“ I have received information — from Russia — from 
a reliable source,” replied Malet, quickly. “ The 



(i 


GREAT NEWS ! 


THE EMPEROR IS DEAD 


f ” 































- - - p • - •, 

***v - ♦ 

•• r > • . - 

*w > • * *• . • 1 








- 


























* 





























































































































THE EMPEROR IS DEAD. 


277 


government knows nothing of it yet. It will learn 
the news during the night, perhaps not until morning. 
Meanwhile I shall have availed myself of my season- 
able knowledge of this lucky disaster.” 

“ What do you propose to do ? ” 

“ Take advantage of the surjn-ise of some, and the 
anger of others — assemble all who are well disposed 
— appeal to the enthusiasm of patriots, and to the 
calculating shrewdness of the old factionists, who will 
let me alone, in the hope of finding their profit later 
in the possible disorder that may follow. Yes, I pro- 
pose to snatch the government from the hands of 
Bonaparte’s incapables and fanatics, who will run to 
cover at the first alarm and lose no time in submitting ; 
and by favor of the confusion, and the resulting inter- 
regnum, I expect to be able to proclaim a new gov- 
ernment to-night, or to-morrow at dawn, at the 
latest.” - 

“ Beware, my dear husband ! You mean to be a 
Bonaparte or a monk ! ” 

“Neither the one nor the other. A Washington 
perhaps ! I am a republican and I do not seek power 
for myself. A commission will deliberate as to what 
form of. government had best be submitted to the 
people. If blind partisanship should carry the day 
and refuse to restore the republic, I should withdraw ; 
I would not abuse the power placed in my hands ; if I 
cannot employ it as the best interests of France 
demand, if the resistance is too strong, I shall resign 

i 


278 


THE EMPEROR IS DEAD. 


my command after I have assured public order, and 
go with you, my love, far away from Europe, to the 
colonies, with tranquil heart and head erect, firm in 
the belief that I have done enough for my country by 
delivering her from the military despot who oppresses 
her and sucks her blood ! But I am almost sure of 
being followed by every one. The Frenchmen of to- 
day seem happy in their chains, and one must. resort to 
force to rouse them to throw them off — to force and 
to stratagem,” added Malet with an enigmatical smile : 
“ I shall find a way to force them to accept the re- 
public ! ” 

Although he placed implicit confidence in his better- 
half, Malet didjiot tell her that Napoleon’s death was 
imaginary. He deemed it preferable that even those 
persons as to whose devotion there could be no man- 
ner of doubt, should believe the report to be exact. 
Their good faith would lend additional sihcerity to 
their manner when they spread the news through the 
city. 

Having placed Madame Malet under the strictest 
injunctions to keep secret what she had learned until 

she should hear rumors of momentous events that had 

# 

taken place during the night, he bade her take his 
general’s uniform to the monk Camagno’s house on 
Rue Saint-Gilles. 

As the hour for closing the parlor had arrived, that 
is to say, no visitor could remain longer in the hospital, 
which was once more a prison, Malet kissed his wife 


THE EMPEROR IS /)EA1>. 


279 


twice, and she walked slowly away, struggling to con- 
ceal her tears as she passed the concierge. 

Malet escorted her as far as the interior £ratin£r, the 
limit beyond which prisoner-patients were not allowed 
to go, and as she turned weeping to look back at him, 
he good-humoredly called out through the bars : 

“ I shall see you soon again, my love ; very soon ! ” 

He was never to see her more. 

The bell rang for dinner. It was six o’clock. 

Malet entered the dining-room and took his seat 
quietly at the table with his ordinary companions. 

He ate, drank and talked as usual. There was 
nothing about him to give a hint of the momentous 
resolution he had formed. His self-control and his 
power of dissimulation were so great that he was able, 
after dinner, to go to the salon and take a hand at 
whist, as he did every evening, nor was there any 
symptom of absent-mindedness or nervousness to arouse 
a suspicion that he was on the point of taking a hand 
at another game in which his head was the stake. 

At ten o'clock he rose from the whist table, having 
had extraordinary success. He counted his winnings 
with an air of satisfaction, wished his less fortunate 
adversaries good night and better luck, and went up 
to his bedroom with all the others. 

At eleven the private hospital was sleeping soundly. 
There was no light at any window. The whole quar- 
ter was quiet and deserted. 

Malet crept softly from his room, and descended 


« 


280 


THE EMPEROR IS DEAD. 


the servants’ staircase to the pantry, of which he had 
succeeded in procuring the key. 

He had foreseen the possibility of surprise by some 
belated servant, and in such a case would have said 
that he was very hungry and was on his way to the 
larder in quest of food. 

He crossed the garden to the wall, where Abbe 
Lafon awaited him with the gardener’s ladder. 

Lafon, who slept in a little pavilion at the foot of 
the garden, had simply to climb down a trellis upon 
which roses were growing. 

Both of them easily climbed the wall, and laying 
the ladder along the ground so that it might not attract 
the attention of any passing patrol, hastened down 
Faubourg Saint- Antoine. 

Abbe Lafon carried the large portfolio containing 
all the documents forged by Malet, while the general 
held under his cloak both his pistols, loaded and 
ready to open fire upon any one who should undertake 
to s^op him. 

Thus they set forth, alone, but daring and confident, 
in the darkness, bent upon the conquest of Paris and 
the world. 

Don Quixote Malet and Sancho Lafon, blissfully 
unconscious of the utter absurdity of the performance, 
strode gravely along, turning their heads from time to 
time to make sure that they were not followed. They 
were carried away by tliein dreams : the general dwell- 
ing upon the vision of Napoleon, a prisoner, dethroned, 


THE EMPEROR IS DEAD. 


281 


perhaps shot ; the abbe seeing in his mind’s eye King 
Louis XVIII consecrated at Rheims, and presenting 
him with the baretta of a cardinal. 

They did not exchange a word, being in haste to 
reach their destination, and dreading recapture, if the 
alarm had been given at the hospital. 

At last, without attracting the attention of a single 
person, they reached Rue Saint-Gilles in the Marais, 
near Place Royale. There, in Cul-de-Sac Saint- 
Pierre, was the abode of the monk Camagno. 

Malet and Lafon each dropped into the box at the 
door, which opened on the inside, the piece of paper 
which was to serve as passport. 

Almost immediately the door was partly opened. 
The monk was expecting them. He had a brace 
of pistols in his belt, and a blunderbuss over his 
shoulder. 

Rateau and Boutreux were in one of the lower 
rooms. 

The monk pointed out to Malet three horses fast- 
ened to rings in the courtyard. 

On the table in the room where Rateau and Bou- 
treux were waiting were pistols, a sword, a sabre, 
the uniform of a general of division and a tri-colored 
belt. 

“ I see that my orders were understood and have 
been carried out,” said Malet : “ that augurs well.” 

With a genial smile, as if he were dressing for a 
promenade or for some festive occasion calling for full 


282 THE EMPEROR IS DEAD. 

dress, he donned the general’s uniform brought thither 
by his wife. Although he was only a brigadier, he 
assumed the epaulets of a general of division. 

When he was dressed, he said to Boutreux : 

“ Take this belt and put it on under your coat ; you 
are commissioner of police of the provisional national 
government ! ” 

Boutreux put on the belt, struck his hat a blow 
with his fist, and, assuming the blustering air of an old 
convict-keeper, announced that he was ready to deal 
with any recalcitrant. 

Corporal Rateau was in his shirt sleeves ; he could 
not get away from his barracks fully dressed. 

Malet pointed to the uniform of a staff officer in a 
trunk belonging to Marcel, who had sent Camagno a 
note to say that he should not be present. 

“ I promised you promotion, my boy,” said Malet, 
“and I will keep my word. You are a captain from 
this moment. Put on this uniform ; I make you my 
aide-de-camp .” 

“ Thanks, general ! you will find me neither a lag- 
gard nor a traitor, I promise you.” 

“ Good ; I rely on you — I rely upon you all, my 
friends ! But why is Major Marcel not here ? Did 
he get frightened, do you suppose ? ” asked Malet. 
“ Does any one know why he broke his word? — for 
he certainly promised to be one of us.” 

“ The note he sent me,” said Camagno, “ contained 
these few words only : ‘ Do not expect me. I resume 


THE EMPEROR IS DEAD. 


283 


my liberty of action. T have seen Colonel Henriot. 
Burn this.’ ” 

“ Is that all ? it’s very strange ! ” said Malet, 
anxiously. “What does he mean by his reference to 
meeting Colonel Henriot ? Can it be that the colonel 
dissuaded him ? Bah ! we five are enough to do the 
business ; it’s much better to go into a fight with none 
but resolute, faithful friends, like you, my comrades ! 
But a truce to words ; let us act ! To horse, and let 
us go without delay to the barracks of the Minimes ; 
it’s only a few steps.” 

“ Impossible to go now,” said Lafon, returning from 
the courtyard. “ Listen ! it rains torrents ; I ordered 
the horses back to the stable.” 

“Rain!” muttered Malet, ironically. “Ah! yes, 
revolutions don’t come off in bad weather; it was 
Petion who said that, and he knew what he was talk- 
ing about, did the Mayor of Paris. Oh well ! let us 
wait till the rain stops, and sup, to kill time. 

The monk’s cellar was well stocked, and his larder 
was by no means empty. 

They ate and drank ; they lighted a bowl of punch, 
and drank healths which were veritable antiphrases, 
as their conversation was entirely taken up with the 
death of various persons ; Napoleon first of all ; then 
Cambaceres and Rovigo ; and lastly, the faithful mar- 
shals, like Ney and Lefebvre, were among those of 
whom the platoon of execution was to rid France. 
Marie-Louise would be sent back to Austria and the 


284 


THE EMPEROR IS DEAD. 


little King of Rome, entrusted to corsairs who would 
make a cabin-boy of him, and later a good sailor, 
would never know the secret of his birth. 

This unseasonable carousing and useless bravado 
caused the conspirators to lose much precious time. 

It is practically certain that they would have met 
with no better success had they abstained from drink- 
ing and talking until three o’clock in the morning, but 
their chances of taking the authorities by surprise, 
while they were sleeping and unable to communicate 
with one another and exchange views as to the accur- 
acy of the news, would have been much greater. 

Not till half-past three, when the rain at last ceased, 
did Malet, Rateau and Boutreux leave Camagno’s 
house. 

Lafon and Camagno were to remain there, awaiting 
the result, and ready to perform the duties entrusted 
to them by Malet. 

Camagno had solicited the honor of being the first 
to carry to Ferdinand VII the news of his approach- 
ing restoration, and the Abbe Lafon, while Malet and 
his two acolytes were arousing Paris, was to draw up 
commissions and make copies of the proclamations. 
He had assumed the duty of informing the Comte de 
Provence at London, and the pope at Fontainebleau 
of the change, which augured so well for them, in the 
destiny of France. 

Malet betook himself at once to the Popincourt 
barracks, which were close at haud ; they were for- 


THE EMPEROR IS DEAD. 


285 


merly the barracks of the Gardes Franqaises. The 
10 tli cohort was quartered there. 

Rateau and Boutreux, fully as determined as their 
leader — for they both embarked in this impossible 
enterprise with an unconscious daring, which was as 
admirable as it was extraordinary — knocked loudly 
at the door of the barracks. 

A sentinel was posted inside the door and gave the 
alarm. 

The officer in command of the post ran to the spot 
in a fright. He recognized the uniform of a general, 
and supposed that he was making an extra round of 
inspection. He saluted and awaited orders. 

Malet bade him go and inform the colonel command- 
ing the cohort that General Lamotte desired to speak 
with him. 

The name of Lamotte, which Malet assumed, be- 
longed to an officer who was entirely ignorant of the 
conspiracy and of the liberty taken with his person- 
ality. The real Lamotte had much difficulty after- 
ward in exculpating himself. It was believed fora 
long while that he was in the secret of Malet’s 
schemes, but the fact was that Malet selected that 
name at random from the list of generals, and was 
entirely unacquainted with the person from whom he 
borrowed it. 

Malet followed' the officer to Colonel’ Soulier’s 
sleeping-room. A brave man was this Soulier, if not 
very quick-witted ; he had served through the Italian 


286 


THE EMPEROR IS DEAD. 


campaigns, and was devoted to the emperor in remem- 
brance of the glorious First Consul. Cruelly did he 
expiate his credulity. 

Suddenly aroused from sleep, and amazed to find a 
general in his room, accompanied by an aide-de-camp 
and a commissioner of police carrying a lantern, Sou- 
lier, as he rubbed his eyes, asked what the matter was. 

“ I see that you have not been notified,” said Malet, 
cooly. “ The emperor is dead ! The senate convened 
in extraordinary session to-night, has proclaimed a 
provisional government. I am General Lamotte ; 
these are the orders I have to transmit to you from 
General Malet, Governor of Paris, and I am instructed 
to see that they are carried out.” 

Soulier was ill. This intelligence, coming upon 
him so unexpectedly, took away all his presence of 
mind. He was the plaything of a delusion which 
seemed real to him, and cost him his life. 

The poor man sprang out of bed, completely 
crushed. He fumbled about for his clothes in utter 
confusion of mind, mistaking one thing for another, 
mixing up drawers and trousers, and going all astray 
with his shoes and stockings. He was hardly able to 
dress himself. The improvised commissioner of police 
read to him the senatus-consultum and a letter signed 
by Malet. This last document stated that General 
Lamotte would transmit to him the necessary orders 
for the execution of the decree of the senate. 

It contained these words : “ You will put the cohort 


THE EMPEROR IS HEAD. 


287 


under arms with the least possible noise and the ut- 
most diligence. To accomplish this object more surely, 
you will abstain from notifying those officers who are 
away from the barracks. Sergeant-majors will take 
command of companies whose officers are absent.” 

To these orders, which might have seemed to be 
genuine, admitting the fact of Napoleon’s death, was 
added a clause aimed especially at Soulier, and which 
might well have aroused the suspicion of that innocent 
officer. 

“ General Lamotte,” so ran the letter, “ will hand 
you an order for a hundred thousand francs to pay the 
wages allotted to the troops, and double allowance to 
the officers.” 

A second postscript directed Colonel Soulier to 
march to the Hotel de Ville with a portion of his 
troops, and there to hand an enclosure to the Prefect 
of the Seine, and see that an apartment was prepared 
for the reception of General Malet and his staff at 
eight o’clock in the morning. 

The credulous Soulier did not conceive the slightest 
suspicion as to the actual happening of the events of 
which he was informed, nor as to the regularity of the 
orders transmitted to him. The order for a hundred 
thousand francs, and the brigadier-general’s commis- 
sion which accompanied it, doubtless exerted a con- 
siderable persuasive force. He did not demur even to 
the strange direction that officers who did not sleep at 
the barracks should not be notified. 


288 


THE EMPEROR IS DEAD. 


He sent for his adjutant, one Antoine Picquerel, and 
communicated the news to him, with orders to put the 
troops under arms at once. 

Malet went down with the colonel into the court- 
yard, and ordered the troops drawn up in a circle. 
Boutreux in a solemn voice read the senatus-consultum 
and the proclamation. 

It was stated and insisted upon later that Malet, as 
he walked forward into the centre of the circle, ex- 
changed a glance of intelligence with Picquerel, the 
adjutant, and with another officer, one Louis-Joseph 
Lefevre, lieutenant. 

Both were probably connected with the Philadel- 
phians, and acquainted in a general way with the 
object at which Malet was aiming. But before the 
council of war they denied all connivance. 

Boutreux reading was listened to in perfect silence ; 
not an exclamation was uttered, not a voice raised in 
protest. The system of unquestioning passive obedi- 
ence has its drawbacks. The commanding officer in- 
formed his men that the emperor was dead and they 
believed it ; it was in the orders of the day and every- 
thing in the orders of the day is true ; another officer, 
their adjutant, ordered them to wheel and march to 
the Hotel de Ville ; — to follow a general, whose name 
they did not know, but whose rank they recognized, 
without hesitation, without reflection, without discus- 
sion, and these obeying machines obeyed. It is im- 
possible to charge them with crime for so doing, or to 


THE EMPEROR IS DEAD. 


289 


withhold a certain amount of admiration for their 
blind submission to orders which were regular in ap- 
pearance. A wheel is not responsible for being set in 
motion. The connecting rod, the piston, the fly- 
wheel do not stop to argue with the hand that holds 
the lever. No common soldier was called to account 
in the sequel, and if the officers were compromised, 
tried and convicted, it was due to an abuse of power, 
to the recoil of the shock experienced by the govern- 
ment, and to unjust severity. They were but the 
agents of transmission and believed themselves to be 
protected by the superior rank of the engineer in 
charge. 

Malet, whose energy seemed to increase as the 
minutes flew by, enchanted by the turn affairs had 
taken, and assured of having an armed force at his 
disposal, immediately assumed command of part of the 
cohort, about a thousand men, and left a company to 
escort Soulier to the Hotel de Ville. 

With the troops of whom he, a prisoner but a few 
hours before, thus found himself in command, Malet 
started for the prison of La Force. There it was his 
purpose to attempt a bold stroke, which, by its very 
strangeness and its utter futility, added greatly to the 
unreality of this extraordinary conspiracy. 

The soldiers left the barracks in perfect order, 
ignorant of their destination, but quite ready to go 
wherever it might be, so powerful is the habit of 
obedience. No one dreamed of discussing the orders. 


290 


THE EMPEROR IS DEAD. 


The military machine performed its duties with its 
accustomed regularity. Nothing seemed changed. 
The power was applied by a general whose uniform 
and general appearance were the same as those of the 
officers whose orders they were accustomed to execute 
without question. Could the men of the 10th Cohort 
be expected to break with all their customs, to lay 
aside what uniform, drill and barrack life had made 
their second nature, and deliberate ? It never occurred 
to them to question the regularity of an order given 
them. Blind submission had with them become a 
matter of instinct. Day after day they acted in 
response to the impelling force of others, with no occa- 
sion to resort to their own judgment. Why should 
they have transformed themselves on that particular 
morning into logicians or subtle analysts ? They were 
not intelligent bayonets, but they were honest, faithful 
bayonets. How can they be reproached with their 
docility ? It is one proof the more of Malet’s shrewd 
intelligence that he foresaw and counted upon the 
probable effects of ingrained discipline. 

As they marched through the deserted streets, these 
soldiers, unwittingly transformed into insurgents, said 
to one another, in a dazed sort of a way — and sadly, 
too, for most of them admired and worshipped Napo- 
leon — but without a shadow of suspicion : 

u So the emperor is dead ! It’s very unfortunate ! 
Who will whip the enemy now?” . 

Dull-eyed, resigned, passive, they marched along, a 


THE EMPEROR IS DEAD. 


291 


little dull of comprehension perhaps, not daring to 
think of the possible consequences of the terrible news, 
for the most part incapable of reasoning, awaiting 
orders simply, and concentrating their energies upon 
marching in step and carrying their arms handsomely. 

The officers reflected more. They looked upon the 
news as true. Was not the emperor mortal? His 
great distance from home, the scarcity of despatches 
from the army, made it possible to imagine anything. 

“ Perhaps he was killed a long time ago,” said the 
more malevolent; “they have been concealing his 
death from us while they prepared the way for a new 
government ! ” 

They might well have shown more disposition to 
question the orders they received. Was not the decree 
of the senate, assuming to dispose of the government, 
even if the emperor were dead, a revolutionary pro- 
ceeding? The throne was not vacant because Napo- 
leon had disappeared. The time had long gone by 
when an heil* was vainly expected from the first em- 
press. Napoleon’s successor existed ; he was called 
the King of Rome. All these soldiers, all these officers 
had heard the salvoes of artillery and the joyous 
shouts which hailed the birth of him who was to be 
called Napoleon II at his father’s death. But not one 
of them thought of him. The thought of a dynasty 
had not penetrated the public mind. Napoleon was 
looked upon as the sole upholder of the empire ; the 
throne would crumble on the day when he should 


292 


THE EMPEROR IS DEAD. 


cease to sit upon it. In the eyes of his subjects he 
seemed to stand alone in his glory, without descendants 
as he was without ancestors. 

One of the principal authors of the Malet conspiracy, 
but at the same time an innocent participant, General 
Lahorie, frankly admitted it before the council of war. 

“I had seen the 18th Brumaire ,” he said, “a revo- 
lution which came about in the same way ; I believed 
that it was simply a matter of forming a new govern- 
ment, and I gave my support to it, as I gave my sup- 
port to the 18th Brumaire: I supposed that the senate 
could dispose of the government after his death. I 
am not a legist, I am a soldier ! ” 

It was about six o’clock in the morning when 
Malet, at the head of his troops, appeared before the 
prison of La Force. 






AN USHER CALLED, “31. BEYLE.” 


XV. 


THE PORTRAIT. 

At the palace of Saint-Cloud, on the 23d of July, 
1812, a government official in full uniform was await- 
ing an audience of the empress, in a throng of func- 
tionaries of various grades. 

He was a young man, tall, already decidedly stout, 
with strongly-marked features; but his somewhat com- 
monplace face was at times lighted up by a strange, 
enigmatical, terrible smile. 

The extraordinary power of this cruel, ironical 
smile, keen as a knife, escaped the notice of the major- 
ity of the contemporaries and associates of the young- 
officer, who was employed in the office of Comte 
Darn. 

An usher called : 

“ M. Beyle ! ” 

Immediately the man whom posterity was to glorify 
under the name of Stendhal, the illustrious author of 
La Chartreuse de Parme and Le Rouge et le JVoir, 
was admitted to the empress’s presence. 

He thus described his audience in a letter to his 
sister Pauline : 


294 


THE PORTRAIT. 


“ I am to start this evening for the banks of the 
Dana, and I came to Saint-Cloud to receive the orders 
of her Majesty the Empress. She honored me with a 
conversation lasting several minutes as to the route 1 
was to take and the length of the journey. Upon 
leaving her Majesty I went to the apartments of his 
Majesty the King of Rome, but he was asleep and 
Madame la Comtesse de Montesquiou informed me 
that it was impossible to see him before three o’clock. 
I have two hours to wait therefore, and it's not very 
comfortable in full uniform and lace.” 

Beyle was to see the King of Rome in order to 
furnish the emperor with the testimony of an eye- 
witness concerning his son’s condition, his health, his 
appearance and his development. 

He had in addition a special mission from the em- 
press. He was to accompany M. de Bausset, one of 
the chamberlains, the bearer of a portrait of the King 
of Rome, which Marie-Louise was sending to her hus- 
band in the heart of Russia. 

It was September 6th when the two messengers 
made their appearance at the headquarters of the em- 
peror. On the morrow the sun, veiled by cannon- 
smoke, was to rise upon twenty-four thousand corpses 
lying in that plain of Borodino beside the Moskowa, 
whither the two officers had travelled from afar, over 
dreary wastes dotted here and there with the smoking 
ruins of burned cities, bearing the portrait of a child. 

Napoleon was impatiently awaiting the momentous, 


THE PORTRAIT. 


295 


perhaps decisive, engagement which Koutousoff offered 
him. His combinations had not succeeded, and every- 
thing seemed to turn against him from the very outset 
of the campaign. 

He could not succeed in overtaking Prince Basrra- 
tion; he had vainly striven to approach Barclay de 
Tolly. After a daring attempt to turn the flank of 
the two armies, Smolensk stopped him, nor did he de- 
rive any great advantage from the seizure of that heap 
of charred ruins ; at the bloody battle of Valoutina, 
where gallant General Gudin met his death in a 
desperate hand-to-hand struggle, Junot’s inactivity, 
his obstinate refusal to relieve Ney, his sluggishness 
in crossing a swamp which lay between him and the 
Russian army, thereby losing an opportunity to fall 
upon the enemy from behind and annihilate him, all 
these causes of vexation taken in conjunction with 
battles that led to no result — victories to be sure, but 
victories which cost him dear, and wasted the best 
blood of his army — made him beyond measure impa- 
tient for a decisive action. 

Perhaps, if he had been able to strike a decisive 
blow sooner, he would have followed the advice of his 
generals and gone into winter quarters at Smolensk 
or Witebsk. But he said to himself that his cam- 
paign lacked the eclat , the prestige of a brilliant and 
real victory, and that it was impossible for him to 
return to Paris, leaving his army behind in Poland 
and Volhynia, unless his return was preceded by the 


296 


THE PORTRAIT. 


news of a crushing defeat of the Russians. He must 
have flags to hang upon the walls of the Invalides, 
and Russian cannon to exhibit to the Parisians. 

Napoleon saw through the Russian plan of constant 
retreat. Imagine then his delight when he saw Kou- 
tousoff’s army drawn up along the Moskowa, prepared 
to dispute the road to Moscow with him. 

His calculations were at fault in giving battle, and 
the Russians showed little more wisdom in accepting 
it. For their position was not strong enough to stay 
Napoleon's advance, and the loss of the battle would 
put Moscow at his mercy, a result which the Russians 
wished to avoid ; on the other hand, a bloody slaughter, 
to which all the signs pointed, would certainly weaken 
the French, render ultimate victory more problemati- 
cal, and a prolongation of their stay in Russia almost 
impossible. On both sides there was self-deception 
and blundering. 

It is not strictly accurate to say that the Russians 
had fortified Chevardino and Borodino hi advance. 
The great redoubt was not an outpost, but part of the 
regular defences of the place. The battle-field was 
shifted from right to left as a result of the capture of 
the Chevardino redoubt. 

The battle was equally desired and looked upon as 
inevitable in both camps. 

As they were marching toward the river Kolotcha, 
which flows through the village of Borodino, a young 
Cossack was taken by Napoleon’s escort. The em- 


THE PORTRAIT. 


297 


peror ordered him to be provided with a horse, and 
questioned him as they rode along. An interpreter 
translated the replies of the Cossack, who had no sus- 
picion of his questioner’s rank. The simplicity of 
Napoleon’s costume made it impossible for this child 
of the steppes, accustomed to the gold lace and plumes 
of his officers, to guess that he was talking with the 
world-renowned emperor. 

He replied with great loquacity. He declared that 
a great battle was expected very soon. The prevail- 
ing conviction in the army was that they would be 
defeated. The French were commanded by a general 
named Bonaparte who had always beaten his enemies. 
The onty way to resist him was to flee before him. 
Later, when they were re-enforced, when the winter 
had come and made it harder for the French to obtain 
supplies, perhaps they would have better luck. With 
true oriental fatalism the young horseman of the Don 
added : “ When God chooses he will put an end to 
Napoleon Bonaparte’s victories, but he doesn’t choose 
yet.” • 

The emperor smiled at the Cossack’s childlike con- 
fidence, and bade the interpreter tell him who it was 
with whom he had been chatting so familiarly. 

When the young fellow learned that he was riding 
beside Napoleon, his countenance expressed the most 
profound stupefaction : he leaped down from his horse, 
prostrated himself like the fanatics of India, kissed the 
emperor’s stirrup, and gazed at him with veneration, 


298 


THE PORTRAIT. 


as if fascinated by the proximity of this conquering 
hero, whose name and battles and legendary fame, as 
described by the story-tellers of the steppes, had kept 
him and his fellows awake during many a long night 
in camp. 

Napoleon, touched by his prisoner’s unfeigned ad- 
miration for himself, ordered him to be set at liberty, 
and to be furnished with a horse and provisions and a 
small sum of money. 

“ Go back to your comrades,” he said, “ and tell 
them Napoleon will cross the Moskowa with his troops 
day after to-morrow. You are free! bear yourself like 
a good soldier among your fellows, and may God pre- 
serve you from our bullets ! ” 

The day of September 6th passed gayly enough in 
the French camp. 

With fires lighted, weapons cleaned and dinner in 
preparation, old campaigners and raw recruits gave 
themselves up to the joy of living. For how many of 
them did that day prove to be the threshold of eter- 
nity ! 

Some successful foraging in the neighborhood ; a 
more abundant distribution by the commissary depart- 
ment ; the sight of the emperor riding about, glass in 
hand, over the probable battle-field ; the certainty of 
being victorious on the morrow, and the hope of reach- 
ing Moscow and resting from their labors there, — 
spread good humor and animation throughout the 
French camp. 


THE PORTRAIT. 


299 


On the other hand, a feeling of intense discourage- 
ment prevailed among the Russians.' The commander- 
in-chief hardly expected to win a victory ; and the 
troops were praying and lamenting, fearful that they 
should not survive the disaster of the following day. 

Although the issue of the bloody conflict sufficiently 
demonstrated the splendid gallantry of these same 
men who were so downhearted before the action, 
there seemed to be no hope of salvation in their camp, 
unless by the intervention of some supernatural power. 
A great religious ceremonial was ordered by Koutou- 
soff. An image of the Virgin, saved from the flames 
at Smolensk, and which was credited with the power 
to save Russia, was carried up and down the lines. 
The angels, so the officers informed the credulous sol- 
diers, in order to save the blessed protectress from 
falling into the impious hands of' the French, bore the 
Madonna away upon their wings through the flames of 
the captured city. So long as the Virgin remained 
among them the Russians would be invincible. 

It was a long, majestic, imposing procession that 
marched from one end to the other of the Russian 
lines. Koutousoff, although at heart he shared the 
incredulity of the French philosophers who were for- 
merly so well received at the Empress Catherine’s 
court, and with whom he had often supped and made 
profession of atheism, followed with uncovered head 
and devout bearing the long line of priests escorting 
the archimandrite, before whom the miraculous image 


300 


THE PORTRAIT. 


was borne by a number of officers. The ceremony 
was prolonged until nightfall. From the French camp 
they could see through the twilight haze the torches 
and tapers of the priests as they marched back and 
forth, and the strains of sacred music floated across 
the intervening plain to the ears of Napoleon’s troop- 
ers, who made sport of them. 

It is certain that the emperor, as he methodical?)' 
made his dispositions for the approaching battle, and 
his soldiers, feasting gayly, like the warriors of an- 
tiquity who expected to sup with Pluto at night, acted 
more in accordance with the logic and traditions of 
war. But the superstitious preparation of the Rus- 
sians had a legitimate object, too, and was not without 
its effect. This devout people derived considerable 
enthusiasm and confidence from their belief in assist- 
ance from on high. The Madonna, by inspiring their 
hearts with the idea that they might be stronger than 
fortune, and might triumph over Napoleon by favor 
of the divine will, in some measure made up for the 
incompetency of Alexander and his generals. The 
priests, making use of this fetich, atoned for the mis- 
take of Koutousoff, who had extended his lines too far, 
thus running the risk of being outflanked on the left, 
and had failed to perceive that the capture by the 
French of the Chevardino redoubt placed him in a 
position of extreme danger. All the historians, who 
are sadly at variance as to facts of less moment, agree 
that Koutousoff s dispositions were ill made. Davout’s 


THE PORTRAIT. 


301 


plan, which Napoleon did not accept, deeming it too 
rash, and which consisted in sending a body of troops 
through the forest of Outitza at night and turning 
their left flank, might have forced the left flank back 
to the Moskowa, where it would have been driven to 
a stand, as in a bag, of which the redoubt was the ori- 
fice. Sure to be beaten, because of his comparatively 
disadvantageous position, it was only by virtue of the 
courage of Koutousoff’s troops and the unwonted timid- 
ity of Napoleon that the Russian army escaped entire 
destruction, and that there was for a moment a possi- 
bility that they might win a victory. The moral force 
acquired by the Russians in the course of this proces- 
sion counted for much, therefore, in lessening the ex- 
tent of their defeat. Credulity may over-excite the 
heart. A soldier’s firm conviction that the heavenly 
powers are fighting for him and by his side is of a na- 
ture to turn the scale. Old Koutousoff knew how to 
make the most of this peculiarity of the Russian char- 
acter. If his soldiers had fought less valiantly, if they 
had not defended their positions so resolutely and 
made Napoleon pay so dear for his victory, he cer- 
tainly would have pursued and annihilated them. 

The emperor, having made all his dispositions, was 
returning to his tent, when his eye fell upon two per- 
sons whose civilian garb was in striking contrast with 
the uniforms all about them. 

He rode toward them with pardonable curiosity. 
M. de Bausset and Henri Beyle, having saluted him, 


302 


THE PORTRAIT. 


discharged themselves of the errand confided to them 
by Marie-Louise. 

Napoleon listened with a thrill of almost childlike 

j°y- 

He hastily dismounted, pounced upon the box which 
the empress’s envoys handed to him, and tried to force 
it open with his hands, but was fain to turn it over to 
Roustan and his valet-de-ehambre, watching them im- 
patiently as they drew the nails, and reproving their 
moderation. He constantly bent over them to see how 
they were getting on, and if the empress’s priceless 
gift was in sight. 

At last the portrait appeared, and the dry, cold eyes 
of the great despot filled with tears. He put forth all 
his self-control to refrain from weeping before his offi- 
cers, and took three or four pinches of snuff in feverish 
haste. 

He stood for some moments in ecstatic contempla- 
tion with arms extended, as if he wished to call his 
son’s image to him and press it to his heart. 

In this fine example of Baron Gerard’s work the 
child was represented sitting in his cradle, playing 
with a cup and ball. 

One of the messengers remarked in an undertone 
that the ball might be taken to represent the globe 
and the stick the sceptre. 

This flattery, overheard by Napoleon, brought a 
smile to his lips and roused him from his mute con- 
templation for an instant. He ordered the portrait to 







DID HE THEREUPON REGIN TO REALIZE THE EMPTINESS OF 

EARTHLY GRANDEUR? 






THE PORTRAIT. 


303 


be taken to his tent. He at once followed it thither, 
dismissed all his attendants, and remained alone with 
the counterfeit presentment of his son, lost in what 
was surely a blissful reverie, although not unmixed 
with gloomy presentiments. Gazing at the fair, curly 
head of the child so far away from him, whom he was 
never to see again but twice, Napoleon ceased to be 
emperor, and became a man once more. Perchance, 
in that moment of deep emotion, he realized the empti- 
ness of all great destinies, the deceitfulness of gran- 
deur, and told himself that he had been foolish to 
throw away the substance of happiness for the shadow 
of power, and that he would have been happier far 
away from the throne, with his sword in its sheath, an 
unnoticed, obscure, peaceable traveller upon a quiet 
road, a contented father leading his child by the hand. 
Did he thereupon begin to realize the emptiness of 
earthly grandeur and the reality of the simple joys of 
a contented heart, which were within the reach of his 
subjects, but were forbidden to him ? 

In his joy at beholding once more the sweet, inno- 
cent features of his son, Napoleon banished from his 
mind the sad thoughts caused by the great distance 
and momentous events which lay between them, and 
determined that the army should share his paternal joy. 

He therefore ordered the portrait to be placed upon 
a chair outside his tent. Thereupon the marshals, 
generals and inferior officers, in a sycophantic spirit, 
followed by the common soldiers , — the men of Fried- 


304 


the; portrait. 


land and of Rivoli — more sincere in their rough en- 
thusiasm tinctured with fanaticism, defiled before the 
portrait of the King of Rome, happy to salute the iim 
age of the son of their god. 

This was no procession like that of the Russians, — 
a superstitious, savage people kneeling before the mir- 
acle-working Madonna ; it was the spontaneous pour- 
ing forth of an army, which looked upon itself as one 
family of which the emperor was the father, coming to 
ask the blessing of a child. 

All day the portrait of the King of Rome remained 
exposed to the view of the’ soldiers. , 

The emperor was so overjoyed by the opportunity to 
gaze upon his son’s features, that he was cheerful and 
animated until evening. He listened good-humoredly 
to what Colonel Sabvier, who arrived from Spain that 
same day, had to tell him of the unfortunate campaign 
in the South. The news was far from satisfactory. 
The mistakes of Marmont and the successes of the 
English were well calculated to disturb his serenity; 
but he showed no symptoms of vexation, and listened 
with grave equanimity to Colonel Sabvier’s report 
upon the battle of Salamanca. As he dismissed the 
colonel he remarked that he proposed to make amends 
upon the banks of the Moskowa for the blundering of 
his lieutenants in the South. The King of Rome’s 
image had a soothing effect upon everything, and made 
it possible for him to listen calmly to intelligence which 
at other times would have been greeted with outbursts 


THE PORTRAIT. 


305 


of wrath, and a violent attack upon the messenger of 
evil. 

At sunset he cast a last glance at the Russian posi- 
tions, and, having made sure that they evinced no 
disposition to steal away, he withdrew to his tent to 
take a little rest, sure of victory because he was sure 
of an opportunity to tight. 

Profound silence reigned over the vast, slightly- 
undulating plain. The camp-fires here and there shone 
red against the black background. The hymns of the 
Russians had ceased. The bacchanalian refrains and 
loud laughter of the French no longer disturbed the 
repose of the camp. A fine, cold rain was falling. 
The sentinels at the outposts wrapped themselves in 
their cloaks, and sought shelter behind tree-trunks or 
clumps of bushes. A vague sigh, the respiration of 
three hundred thousand sleeping men, ascended gently 
heavenward, like the breath of a child sleeping in its 
cradle. This perfect tranquillity was the prelude to 
the savage combat, the direful uproar of the morrow. 
Nothing suggested the likeness to a bloody charnel- 
house which between sunset and sunset that still, peace- 
ful plain w r ould assume, where, like laborers wearied 
with their day’s toil and resting their limbs fof the 
peaceful task they would resume at dawn, infantry, 
cavalry, artillery and engineers lay stretched out care- 
lessly around the great fires, dreaming of the pretty 
women and toothsome food they would find at Moscow 
when the Russians were beaten. 


306 


THE PORTRAIT. 


On the last round he made to satisfy himself that 
the Russians had not broken camp, Napoleon was 
caught in the cold rain and was chilled to the bone. 
The result was a severe cold, which seized him the 
next day, and was attended with considerable fever, 
and a consequent impairment of his mental activity. 

At three o’clock in the morning, in accordance with 
the emperor’s orders, the troops were put under arms 
in silence. The fog was cold and thick. Hidden by its 
curtain, Prince Eugene marched to a point opposite the 
village of Borodino, facing the great redoubt. The 
river Kolotcha was crossed : Ney and Davout took up 
their positions ; while Friant, with Marshal Lefebvre 
and % the Guard massed themselves in the centre ; Poni- 
atowski marched to the right through the woods, and 
the gunners, standing behind the guns of three great 
batteries, awaited the signal. 

The emperor took up his position at the redoubt of 
Chevardino, where Murat passed in front of him and 
saluted him theatrically. 

This heroic mountebank was attired, one might 
almost say disguised, as if for a performance at the 
circus. He wore a tunic of green velvet profusely 
trimmed with gold lace, a Polish toque with plumes, 
yellow boots — oh, such lovely boots, with spurs of 
unmeasured length ! The generals of the Paris Com- 
mune, who have been so laughed at since, although 
the shells of Mont-Vah'rien which they defied were 
serious enough, God knows ! never made so pompous 


THE PORTRAIT. 


307 


and carnival-like a display of cast-off clothes. Murat 
had thrown away his sword and was brandishing his 
riding-whip, shouting: “This is good enough to hunt 
Cossacks ! ” 

This Murat, vulgar as he was and brutal, and too 
much belaced, in appearance more mountebank than 
warrior, was nevertheless the hero of this battle of 
giants, which the Russians call Borodino and we the 
Moskowa. 

Four times the ring-master hurled his formidable 
masses of cavalry — and such cavalry ! Latour-Mau- 
bourg’s cuirassiers, General Defranc’s carabineers- — 
against the squares of Russian infantry. He was 
everywhere. He replaced Davout, the first of Napo- 
leon’s lieutenants, who was wounded at the beginning 
of the battle. He rode beside Ney, bravest of the 
brave, in the thick of the fight. He crossed the ravine 
defended by the Russian guard, carried the legendary 
redoubt, occupied the post of Semenofskovie, and won 
the victory of the Moskowa, which the Russians after- 
ward denied. Murat proved that he was a true 
Frenchman, when, still slashing the air with his whip, 
he pursued to the cannon’s mouth the last battalions 
of the Russian guard, which were entrenched at 
Soski, the extreme end of the battle-field near the 
river. 

Murat was at the head of the first soldiers in the 
world, Friant’s division, when that general was borne 
to the ambulance, where . his son was already in the 


308 


THE PORTRAIT. 


surgeon’s hands, wounded. The superb phalanx was 
left without a leader. The sublime mountebank rode 
up, as Solidet, chief-of-staff, assumed the command, 
which he at once turned over to the emperor’s brother- 
in-law. A cannon-ball passed between them as they 
grasped each other’s hands to ratify the transfer of 
the command. 

“ This is a bad place,” said Murat with a smile ; 
“ they came near cutting my stick in two ! Bah ! we 
won’t remain long here, but will make the Russians 
give us a more comfortable spot to stand in ! ” 

lie turned to the soldiers whom the Russian cuiras- 
siers were preparing to charge. 

“Form two squares!” he cried in his powerful 
voice. “ Friant’s soldiers ! remember that you are 
heroes ! ” 

“ Vive King Murat!” cried Friant’s men, and 
manoeuvring as if they were in the courtyard of the 
Ecole Militaire , they formed two squares, whose con- 
verging fires piled up the superb Russian cuirassiers in 
confused bleeding heaps. The “ bad place ” was more 
comfortable thereafter. Murat did more than charge 
at the head of his own cavalry, and command infantry. 
He also directed a withering artillery fire upon the 
Russian corps of Dochoroff and Ostermann. Three 
hundred pieces of cannon under his direction checked 
the advance of the Russians and enabled him to lead a 
resistless cavalry charge in the ravines of Semenofsko- 
vie. On that day when death dealt its blows unspar- 


THE PORTRAIT. 


309 


ingly on all sides, Murat was in very truth the Protean 
warrior; he changed his costume according to the 
necessities of the action ; his role called for a pro- 
digious number of transformations. 

The troops paused to exchange courtesies even in 
the thickest of the fighting. The cuirassiers of Gen- 
eral Caulaincourt, who was slain in the charge, shouted 
as they passed in front of the 9 th carabineers, whom 
the Russian horse-guards were putting down by 
scores : “ Vive le neuvieme ! ” in order not to humiliate 
the gallant fellows to whom they afforded the welcome 
relief. 

“ Vivent les cuirassiers ! ” the carabineers replied, 
and the carnage continued, frightful and pitiless. 

It was an atrocious battle. Ney and Murat, like 
the heroes of antiquity, seemed to be invulnerable and 
invincible. The slaughter exceeded anything that had 
ever been known before. Neither in ancient times 
nor in our modern wars, notwithstanding the ferocious 
desperation of the hand-to-hand fighting before the 
invention of firearms, and the destructive power of the 
artillery and rapid-firing guns in the battles of to-day, 
has massacre ever attained such horrifying proportions. 
Thirty thousand Frenchmen were killed, sixty thousand 
Russians remained upon the batt’ e-field. Forty-seven 
generals and thirty-eight colonels were disabled. Be- 
side these ninety thousand corpses, twenty thousand 
wounded horses wandered about, neighing pitifully, 
among the dismounted caissons. 


310 


THE PORTRAIT. 


Nothing more than a list of the leaders stricken 
down in this appalling conflict is needed to prove how 
desperate was the fighting. The commander-in chief 
of the Army of the Dnieper, Prince Bagration, was 
killed in the assault on the great redoubt. In our 
ranks, Marshal Davout, Generals Friant, Morand, 
Rapp, Compans, Belliard, Nansouty, Grouchy, Saint- 
Germain, Bruyere, Pajol, Defranc, Bonamy, Teste, 
Guillerminet, were grievously wounded. Among the 
dead were Generals Caulaincourt, Montbrun, Romoeuf, 
Cliastel, Lanchere, Compere, Dunas, Dessaix, Canon- 
ville. In the middle of the day divisions were com- 
manded by brigadier-generals. 

Toward the close of the action the gallant Seruzier, 
general of artillery, le pere aux boulets, as he was 
familiarly called, was engaged in reconnoitring the 
location of a battery, which he thought had been 
pushed forward too far, and which was being threatened 
by Platow’s Cossacks, when a field battery came up 
behind him. 

It was the emperor riding over the battle-field to 
cheer the wounded by his presence and encourage the 
survivors. 

Seruzier approached the emperor, who ordered him 
to call together at once all his troops, that he might 
review them'. 

“ Sire, this is no time for a revieiy,” Seruzier re- 
plied ; “ they are going to charge us ! ” 

The words were hardly out of his mouth when Cos- 


THE PORTRAIT. 


311 


sacks and Basques, w ith savage cries, came down in 
swarms upon the emperor and the artillery. More 
than twenty thousand cavalry took part in the charge. 
The emperor was in great danger, and Murat was not 
at hand. 

Seruzier ran to his guns ; the even numbers being 
loaded with ball, the odd numbers with grape. Every 
shot of this terrible broadside did deadly execution 
upon the swarm of Cossacks. The firing wa$ as reg- 
ular as at practice. The horses of the Russians were 
so heaped up in front of the batteries that they formed 
a breastwork. 

“ If they want more of it,” said the emperor to 
Seruzier with a smile, “ give it to them ! ” 

At the word four hundred guns opened upon the 
Russian cavalry, and they fell back in disorder upon the 
Guard, who were massed in their rear. They made no 
more prisoners, but mowed down men by companies. 

The time had gone by when the scientific manoeuvres 
of General Bonaparte or of the First Consul enveloped 
the armies of Alvinzy, Milan-, and Archduke Charles, 
and compelled them to lay down their arms. 

Lost in the midst of the vast Russian Empire, hav- 
ing stripped France bare of men for his mad rush 
northward, with no hope of reinforcements or succor, 
Napoleon waged a savage war of extermination. He 
bore himself, with Murat’s cavalry, with Ney’s in- 
fantry, with Scruzier’s artillery, like the explorer sur- 
rounded by savage assailants in African wilds ; there 


312 


THE PORTRAIT. 


was no way for him to break out a path save by de- 
stroying everything that lay in his way. A pitiless 
butcher, he hewed out a bloody pathway through a 
forest of men. 

When Seruziers cannon had forced the enemy to 
fall back, the emperor determined to hold his con- 
templated review, deeming the action at an end. 

He distributed rewards to all the heroes who were 
specially called to his attention. He summoned Ney, 
already a marshal and Duke of Elchingen — Tolstoi 
refers to the bravest of the brave as “ Ney, soi-disant 
Duke of Elchingen ” — and amid the acclamations of 
the army, created him Prince of the Moskowa. 

To Seruzier, who had saved him from the attack of 
the Cossacks, and put the finishing touch to the defeat 
of the enemy, he said : 

“ Who is the bravest of all the men in your com- 
mand?” 

“ ’Faith, sire, I should find it hard to say ! All that 
I. know is that I am the biggest coward ! ” 

This reply made the emperor smile. Having dis- 
tributed crosses and promotions among Seruzier’s 
officers and soldiers, he said to him : 

“ I must take you last, as you are, you say, the 
biggest coward. I give you a pension of four thousand 
francs and the title of baron.” 

Napoleon knew how to reward his veterans. 

Night at last came down upon the battle-field. The 
plain of Borodino was naught but one vast ambulance, 


THE PORTRAIT. 


313 


with morgues here and there where thousands of 
corpses lay, bleeding, shattered, disfigured, horrible to 
see. The ravine of Semenofskovie seemed like an 
immense coffin into which the dead had been thrown 
pell-mell. There the Russian soldiers had sought 
shelter from the cannonade, and Murat had hewn down 
all the living flesh that came in his way with his 
riding-whip, a deadlier weapon than Attila’s hammer. 
Life was extinct wherever that outrider of death had 
passed. 

Russian mendacity denies that Napoleon won the 
battle of Borodino or the Moskowa. 

Koutousoff had the impudence to write to Alexan- 
der that he had whipped the French, and that his 
motive in falling back before Napoleon was to pre- 
serve Moscow, the holy city. Rostopchine, by burn- 
ing the Muscovite capital, which was evacuated without 
a pretense of defence, furnished a flat contradiction 
to that audacious assertion. 

The French army slept upon the positions it had* 
carried at Borodino. It occupied the redoubts erected 
by the Russians. Koutousoff fell back with his army. 
The battle was fought by the Russians to cover or to 
save Moscow, and the fact that Napoleon entered the 
Kremlin a few days later is sufficient evidence that 
Koutousoff lied and that the Russians were fairly 
beaten on September 7th. That the victory was 
dearly bought, and that, viewed in the light of the dis- 
astrous winter, retreat, its results were insignificant, 


314 


THE PORTRAIT. 


save for the poor devils who met their death upon that 
fatal field, is beyond contradiction. Russian duplicity 
does wrong to deny the facts. 

The famous Russian novelist, Tolstoi, who has 
lately fallen into a state of utter humanitarian and 
mystic decay, claims that the battle of Borodino “ was 
the first that Napoleon had failed to win.” 

He denies with apparent sincerity the effect of the 
influenza in paralyzing Napoleon’s wits ; but for that 
influenza, it has been said, Russia had been lost and 
the face of the world changed. He declares in his 
“ Napoleon and the Russian Campaign,” thht the cold 
in the emperor’s head has no more historical impor- 
tance than a similar affliction of the most insignificant 
soldier in his train. He admits that Napoleon’s plan 
was in no way inferior to those of his earlier cam- 
paigns, but he affirms that this glorious but murderous 
engagement must inevitably have been useless to him. 
“ The immediate result of this battle,” he says, “ so 
Tar as the Russians were concerned, was to hasten the 
fall of Moscow, which they dreaded more than any- 
thing in the world, and for the French, to hasten the 
destruction of their whole army, which they had every 
reason to dread above all else.” 

Tolstoi here is right. The butchery at Borodino 
did not place Russia at the mercy of the French army, 
nor did it force Alexander to sue for peace, but it 
weakened Napoleon terribly. 

And here again we must render our homage to the 


THE PORTRAIT. 


315 


great captain — while deploring in the name of 
humanity the extermination en masse , which all histo- 
rians, philosophers and statesmen agree in characteriz- 
ing as useless — in that his genius was never more 
universal, more omnipotent than at the battle of the 
Moskowa. 

At an enormous distance from F ranee, conscious that 
Germany was in a state of unrest behind him, ready 
to rush to arms and smite him on the hip if he were 
beaten, intent upon fighting a decisive battle to terrify 
the Russian emperor and his advisers, believing that 
peace upon advantageous terms would be offered him 
after the blood-letting, he accepted the offer of battle, 
but for the first time in his life, realized the gravity of 
his losses. 

He directed the whole battle from a distance, leav- 
ing Ney and Murat to themselves. The final posses- 
sion of the battle-field by the French was the result of 
his dispositions. But it was with indescribable pain 
that he watched his regiments go to pieces and disap- 
pear one by one. How was he to replace them ? Such 
was the thought which tortured him throughout the 
action. He was like a bold gambler, doubling the 
stakes and wondering if his money will hold out until 
the tables turn in his favor. 

At ten o’clock he was informed that the great re- 
doubt had been carried at the point of the bayonet by 
the 30th of the line of Morand’s division, commanded 
by General Bonamy. Ney and Murat thereupon sent 


316 


THE PORTRAIT. 


Belliard to ask Napoleon to send forward his Guard 
to complete the victory. He refused, and wisely, 
deeming it too early in the day to send the Guard into 
action. But he gave them Friant’s division. 

After the ravine was carried, Ney and the viceroy 
again requested the assistance of the Guard, but Na- 
poleon sent them only Claparede’s division of the 
Young Guard. 

When Poniatowski, being in full possession of the 
woods, carried Outitza on the right, on the old road to 
Moscow, and the Russian army had begun its retreat, 
Napoleon replied to Lefebvre, who begged his per- 
mission to complete the annihilation of the Russians 
and drive them into the Moskowa with the bayonets 
of his grenadiers : 

“No, my old comrade, I’ll not allow you to cover 
yourself with glory to-day. Your grenadiers have 
won battles enough ! The Russians are in confusion. 
But they are good soldiers. Here are the czar’s finest 
troops retreating before us. There are only about 
eighteen thousand of them ; but eighteen thousand 
staunch, desperate fellows, driven to bay with a river 
at their backs, may make a brilliant defence.” 

“ We shall have them, sire ! ” said Lefebvre, eager 
for the fray. 

“ Pardieu ! I know it well! ” replied the emperor, 
“but how many of my gallant fellows will fall in this 
last struggle? I don’t propose to have my Guard 
wiped out ! eight hundred leagues from France one 


THE PORTRAIT. 


317 


does not feel like endangering his last reserves ! 
Duke of Dantzig, before long mayhap I shall call 
upon my Guard. For the present try to content your- 
self with admiring the gallantry of the army which 
has won the day, and say to yourself that after I have 
entered Moscow in triumph, I cannot return to Paris 
alone, as a defeated general ! ” 

He did not believe in his own prophecy. It must 
be admitted that his wisdom and his prudence were at 
this time worthy concomitants of his genius. He was 
no longer the rash, audacious conqueror of Egypt and 
of Italy, the self-confident taker of capitals ; he had 
formed the habit of taking thought for the future. 
Embarked for an unknown destination, his mind was 
busily occupied with the return journey. If he were 
called upon to fight a second battle on the morrow, 
with whom was he to do it ? Slain men cannot be 
replaced as easily as exploded cartridges. lie was 
right to husband the handful of heroes who remained, 
for if Koutousoff and the Russian historians are to be 
believed, the victory of Borodino contributed more to 
Napoleon’s discomfiture than a defeat would have 
done. If the Russians had checked his march for- 
ward, he would have fallen back upon Smolensk or 
Witebsk. He would have gone into winter quarters, 
and with his soldiers refreshed, recruited and hardened 
to the cold, he would, in 1813, have completed the 
conquest of Russia and signed terms of peace at St. 
Petersburg. 


313 


THE PORTRAIT. 


In the evening, after the battle, Napoleon in the 
first place gave orders for the proper care of the 
wounded ; he converted the abbey of Kolotsko'i into a 
hospital, and rode over the battle-field, where the tire- 
less Larrey, for three days thereafter, bandaged wounds, 
amputated shattered limbs, and distributed cordials 
and lint to the poor devils who lay writhing on the 
muddy ground. Then he returned, sad and thought- 
ful, to his tent. 

His eye fell upon the portrait of the King of Home. 

“ Take away that picture, and put it out of sight ! ” 
he said, hastily, to General Gourgand ; “ the poor child 
is too young to look upon a battle-field — and what a 
battle-field ! ” 

lie threw himself down upon a stool, tired out, dis- 
couraged, burning up with fever, a victor dissatisfied 
with his victory. He was appalled by the terrible 
carnage, and surprised not to hear from the camp the 
joyful vivats and noisy acclamations, with which his 
troops were accustomed to celebrate his success on the 
evening after a battle. Casting his eyes anxiously 
upon an outspread map and placing his finger upon 
France, the victim perhaps of one of those presenti- 
ments which resemble the mysterious “ beware ! ” the 
sentinel soul calls out to the blinded, groping con- 
science, Napoleon muttered : 

“What are they saying, what are they doing at 
Paris ? It may be that the report that I am dead has 
been circulated before this ! ” 


XVI. 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 

The Malet conspiracy was a fairy tale with a tragic 
ending. We have thus far followed it only as far as 
the unreal hour when, like the gourds which were 
transformed into chariots, prisoners of State became 
ministers, while the ministers took possession of their 
vacant cells. During that memorable morning Paris 
was the scene of a memorable and dramatic phantas- 
magoria. 

While Napoleon, not without anxiety, was looking 
over the situation on the evening after the battle of 
the Moskowa, and, still intent upon his rash advance 
upon Moscow, was wondering what wa's being said 
and done at Paris, the capital city of the empire 
awoke from its slumbers, taken by surprise at Malet’s 
audacious stroke. 

We left this extraordinary conspirator on his way to 
the prison of La Force after giving Soulier his orders. 

This old Parisian jail, made famous by the events 
which took place there during the Revolution, and 
whose name is perpetuated in the judicial records, for 
the greatest rascals were confined there, stood at the 


320 


THE ROMANCE OE A CONSPIRACY. 


corner of Rue Pavde-au-Marais and Rue Roi-de-Sicile. 
It was formerly the mansion of the family of La Force, 
and was originally constructed by Charles, King of 
Naples and Sicily. It was Louis XVI who trans- 
formed ihe former royal and ducal mansion into a 
prison. A neighboring property, the Hotel de Bri- 
enne, was purchased by Necker, and was used as a 
house of detention for street-walkers and actors, the 
Fors-l’^veque and Petit-Chatelet having been sup- 
pressed. This prison, known as the Petite-Force, con- 
tinued to be used until the reign of Charles X, when 
it was replaced by Saint-Lazare. Under the Second 
Empire the frowning structure was demolished. 

What motive could have induced Malet to stop at 
the door of a prison and order the wicket opened, in- 
stead of proceeding directly to the administrative de- 
partments and laying hold, as soon as possible, of two 
or three principal points of vantage, — the war depart- 
ment, the department of the interior with control of the 
police, the post-office, and the Hotel de Ville, where 
the provisional government was to assemble ? 

Malet paused in his devil-may-care march, and made 
a detour by Rue Roi-de-Sicile, in order to set at lib- 
erty two prisoners — two generals — Lahorie and 
Guidal. 

These two officers were acquaintances of Malet of long 
standing, but had had no correspondence or communi- 
cation with him. Like him, they were insubordinate 
fellows, — always discontented and restless, not par- 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


321 


ticularly zealous for any party, but ready to fall in 
line wherever there was a breath of revolution. They 
hated the emperor, as they had been jealous of Bona- 
parte long before, and were likely to be disposed to 
second the schemes of anybody who should take up 
arms to overthrow the imperial regime. 

Lahorie, a native of Mayenne, was forty-seven years 
of age. He was of noble birth, and his full name was 
Alexandre Fanneau de Lahorie. He attained very 
high rank while he was quite young. A brigadier- 
general at thirty, he became Moreau’s chief-of-staff. 
Traitors mutually attract one another. Moreau doubt- 
less saw in him a tool to be made useful in his future 
plots. Lahorie was involved in his superior’s trouble, 
and when he undertook to join him in the United 
States was arrested and imprisoned at La Force. 

He certainly knew nothing of Malet’s plans, and 
was not informed that the news of the emperor’s death 
was imaginary. He believed it, and thought that he 
was helping on a coup-d' etat. 

Malet found no difficulty in imposing upon the cre- 
dulity of Soulier, commandant of the 10th Cohort, 
and the men of that command followed him unhesi- 
tatingly ; but he needed bold men for leaders, pro- 
fessional soldiers, capable of keeping the troops up to 
the mark and of leading them on, and upon whom he 
could rely when the time for action came. We must 
remember that the men at the Minime barracks, who 
constituted Malet’s first armed force, were simple Na- 


322 


THE ROMANCE OF 1 A CONSPIRACY. 


tional Guards. Napoleon had taken to Russia all the 
effective forces at his disposal, and France was left 
practically unguarded. To provide for the defence 
and internal security of the kingdom, he organized the 
National Guard in three divisions. The first, com- 
posed of unmarried men from twenty to twenty-six 
years, who were not drafted into the last contingents, 
was divided into one hundred cohorts. Each cohort 
was composed of 1,100 men, including a battery of 
artillery. The cohorts were not to go beyond the 
frontier. 

But the men who composed this territorial army did 
not flatter themselves that Napoleon, the terrible de- 
vourer of men, would hesitate to despatch them to 
reinforce his regiments in Spain, Germany, Russia, 
wherever he might need them to fill up vacant places. 
So it was that these National Guards, compelled to 
neglect their own private business and to leave their 
families, formed an army of malcontents. They were 
inclined to favor the overturn of the regime which 
made soldiers of them and exposed them to the risk of 
bloodshed in a distant land. Commanded by officers 
of soldierly reputation, and with their passions aroused 
against the empire, these cohorts would afford a suffi- 
cient lever to throw down the Napoleonic colussus. 
Lahorie and Guidal, upon whose hatred and enthusi- 
asm Malet thought he might rely, would be the han- 
dles of this redoubtable human lever. 

It is possible that these two generals, Lahorie espe- 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 323 

cially, having been on intimate terms with Moreau, 
who was president of a lodge of Philadelphians in the 
United States, had formerly had secret relations with 
Malet, and that it occurred to him to approach them 
because of their affiliation with that society, and the 
hold upon them which his knowledge of that fact gave 
him. But at the time of Malet’s second conspiracy 
the Philadelphians were not nearly so active as in 
1808. Lahorie and Guidal, being in confinement, 
could not be very active brethren, and the members of 
the association, having lost sight of them, were not 
likely to look upon them as anything more than hon- 
orary associates. 

Guidal, forty-eight years old, was a Southerner, 
with the general appearance of a native of the North, 
lie was born at Grasse, was tall and robust, with blue 
eyes and fair hair. He was retired on half-pay, and 
was afterward involved in the disturbances in Var in 
1811. He was accused, without certain proof, of 
having planned to betray our Mediterranean fleet and 
arsenals to the English. Later his widow exerted 
herself to obtain a pension from Louis XVIII. She 
dwelt upon the service her husband had rendered the 
Bourbons, in the first place with M. de Frottein 1794, 
stirring up rebellion in Orne, and encouraging the 
Chouans in that department, of which he was military 
commandant. She next produced a certificate, ob- 
tained probably by chicanery from the English admiral, 
Lord Weymouth, setting forth that his predecessor, 


I 


324 THIS ftOMANCfi OP A conspiracy. 

Admiral Cotton, had been in communication with a 
French agent named Guidal, who was working to re- 
store the monarchy. The only thing which seems to 
be conclusively established by these vague allegations, 
w T hich must have had, nevertheless, an appearance of 
truth, as Guidal’s widow made use of them to solicit a 
pension from the Bourbons, whose police could easity 
ascertain whether or not the general had secretly 
forwarded their cause by conspiring under the Consulate 
and under the Empire — the only thing proved by 
them, we say, seems to be that Guidal’s son served on 
board an English man-of-war. Lord Weymouth, who 
copied the facts stated in his certificate from the ship’s 
register, could not have been mistaken. That is a 
matter of slight importance, however, for General 
Guidal by taking part in Malet’s conspiracy, injured 
the emperor more, and was more useful to the Bour- 
bons than if he had aimed all the guns in the British 
fleet. 

Like Lahorie, General Guidal was entirely ignorant 
of Malet’s plans. Like him, he manifested unbounded 
surprise and delight at his unexpected release, which 
he attributed to a military revolt, connived at by the 
senate. 

Boutreux, continuing to perform with dignity anc 
energy the duties of commissioner of police, ordem 
the cells of the two prisoners to be thrown open. He 
gravely informed them that they were at liberty. 
They were both dumfounded, and thought at first that 


the romance of a conspiracy. 


325 


he was concealing the truth from them, and that they 
were to be transferred with a view to deportation. 
Lahorie dressed as slowly as possible. Guidal went 
downstairs with a valise in his hand, hardly the most 
suitable equipment for marching at the head of rebel- 
lious troops against the established government. 

They were stupefied to find in the courtyard Malet, 
whom they knew to be in prison, at liberty and in 
full uniform, surrounded by officers and issuing orders. 
It was then made clear to them that a revolution was 
in progress by which the victims of the imperial sys- 
tem would be the gainers. 

Malet embraced them, and informed them in a few 
words that they were free, that the emperor was dead, 
and that commands had been assigned them. In- their 
eyes there was nothing improbable in all this. 

Guidal had formed an intimacy in the prison with a 
Corsican, one Boccheiampe, imprisoned for conspiring 
against the empire. He asked Malet to set him at 
liberty also. Boutreux was ordered to do so, and 
proceeded at once to release this honest fellow, who, 
in utter bewilderment, was thus cast headlong into a 
conspiracy of which he knew absolutely nothing, and 
of which he understood nothing, unless it was that 
where he expected to find liberty, he found death. 

“ You are appointed Minister of Police,” said Malet 
to Lahorie; “you will go at once to your post, take 
possession of the hotel, and arrest Savary for me, dead 
or alive.” 


326 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


Lahorie, still persuaded that this was a second edi- 
tion of the 18th Brumaire . accepted the office, and 
betook himself, with closed eyes as one might say, to 
Savary’s headquarters. 

Boutreux and Boccheiampe were directed to go to 
the prefecture of police, the prefect at that time 
being Baron Pasquier. 

Nine o’clock was appointed as the hour for a general 
rendezvous at the Hotel de Ville, whither Malet was 
to go at eight o’clock to install the provisional govern- 
ment. 

“Go,” said Malet, handing them a bundle of papers, 
containing their commissions and orders for officers in 
command of posts ; “ there’s not a moment to lose ; 
away with you ! ” 

A single platoon was dispatched by Malet to the 
barracks on R.ue de Babylone, where the municipal 
guard were stationed. 

Their colonel, named Rabbe, an old soldier devoted 
to the emperor, who sat on the court-martial in the 
affair of the Due d’Enghien, was surprised to see an 
adjutant, all out of breath, enter his room about half- 
past seven in the morning. 

“ Colonel,” said the adjutant, halting at the door, 
“ there is important news to-day — ” 

His voice trembled, the words would not come, and 
he feverishly fumbled the papers he held in his hand. 
At last he succeeded in mastering his emotion, and 
informed the colonel of the emperor’s death at Moscow, 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


327 


slain by a shot from the ramparts, so it was said — 
and he read the orders which had been handed him. 

Rabbe, sorely distressed, muttered : 

“ We are lost ! What will become of us ? ” 

He did not for an instant doubt the truth of the 
report. It did not occur to him to discuss the orders 
he had received, hie at once ordered his regiment 
under arms, dressed himself in haste, and hurried with 
one battalion to the designated spot. 

While the gallant, simple-minded Rabbd rushed to 
meet his death, the balance of his regiment occupied 
the posts assigned to them. No one suspected the 
fraud, officer or common soldier. They accepted the 
changed order of affairs, without question. Obedience 
and discipline triumphed everywhere. 

Lahorie and Guidal meanwhile had betaken them- 
selves to the general headquarters of the ministry *of 
police. The sentinels on duty allowed them to pass. 
Could they refuse to admit two generals in uniform, 
followed by a battalion ? 

The minister of police was Savary, Duke of Rovigo, 
formerly commander in-chief of the Army of the 
Moselle, and Napoleon’s aide-de-camp ; he was entirely 
devoted to the empire and the emperor. 

Savary was in bed when the conspirators surprised 
him. 

He was an indefatigable worker, and very often 
passed whole nights translating despatches from the 
emperor, and despatching the instructions he received 


328 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


from the imperial headquarters to all parts of the 
empire. 

He had been writing until dawn on this night of 
October 23d, and had but just retired, when he heard 
a great uproar in the courtyard of his official residence, 
— horses neighing, loud voices, and the clash of arms. 
He was wondering what could cause such an unusual 
commotion, when his valet-de-chambre rushed in in dire 
dismay : 

“Monseigneur! monseigneur!” he cried; “they 
have come to arrest you ! ” 

“What nonsense!” said Rovigo. “Come, what 
means this pleasantry ? I am in great need of sleep ; 
so don’t disturb me ! ” 

“ But, monseigneur, it’s no joke at all,” rejoined the 
servant. “ The house is full of soldiers. There is a 
general below asking for you. He says that he has 
come to arrest you. Do you hear : they are coming 
up the great staircase ! — they are coming up, mon- 
seigneur ! ” 

He ran to the door to throw the bolt, saying : 

“I hurried to give you warning, monseigneur, think- 
ing that you might perhaps have some papers to put 
out of sight.” 

Savary had thrown back the bed-clothes, and was 
sitting on the edge of the bed, undecided, deep in 
thought, with his bare legs hanging, and holding in one 
hand his drawers, which the trembling valet handed 
him, but which he did not think of putting on. 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


329 


“"How have I offended his Majesty?” he muttered 
dejectedly, like one cudgelling his brains in the vain 
attempt to account for an unforeseen, undeserved 
accusation. “ Why has he given orders for my arrest ? 
I’ll wager it’s some villany of Fouche’s! ” he added, 
between his teeth. “ Can it be that the emperor still 
listens to that infernal scoundrel ? ” 

The minister’s first thought was, as we see, that 
they had come in the emperor’s name, to make sure 
of his person. 

In his perplexity he tried hard to guess the cause 
of this sudden severity, but without success. 

There was considerable commotion in the adjoining 
room, which put an end to his cogitations. He was 
soon to learn, no doubt, why he was arrested. 

“ Open in the name of the law ! ” cried a voice ; 
and at the same moment the door gave way under the 
heavy blows of the muskets. One of the lower panels 
was shattered, and through the opening a soldier en- 
tered the room with fixed bayonet. Another followed, 
then a third, and all three stood before the duke with 
their muskets levelled at him. 

At last the door was thrown open, and the awe- 
struck Savary saw a most surprising ajiparition in the 
shape of a general in full uniform : it was no other 
than Lahorie, who was imprisoned under his auspices, 
aud whom he supposed to be in safe custody at La 
Force. But the prisoner of State stood before him in 
the flesh, in the uniform of a general, sword at his 


330 THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 

side, and giving orders to soldiers, who seemed to obey 
him unhesitatingly. What was going forward, in 
God’s name? It seemed to Savary as if he were in 
the throes of a horrible nightmare, and yet he told him- 
self that he was certainly wide awake. If he was not 
dreaming, the world was upside down. Prisoners 
strutting about at will and arresting people ! He 
could not believe his eyes. 

“ Blessed name of God ! ” cried Lahorie familiarly, 
almost gayly ; “ your room’s like a fortress. Ah ! my 
old Savary ; you are surprised to see me, are you 
not?” 

Rovigo could only stammer : 

“ Is it really you, Lahorie ? What are you doing 
here ? How is it you aren’t at La Force ? ” 

“The government has set me at liberty, and put me 
in command of these gallant fellows,” said Lahorie, 
still with almost childish glee. 

“What government? I don’t understand.” 

“Well, I’ll tell you. The emperor is dead! The 
people name their own magistrates.” 

“ Oh, mon Dieu ! the poor emperor ! ” cried Savary; 
and, overcome by grief, for he was sincerely attached 
to Napoleon, he fell back upon his bed. 

For some moments he lay there almost unconscious ; 
but his common-sense and clear sightedness soon reas- 
serted themselves. He immediately suspected trickery. 
It was not that he doubted the death of the emperor- 
That terrible catastrophe was quite within the possi- 


THE ROMANCE OE A CONSPIRACY. 


331 


bilities. How many times, during that necessary but 
prolonged Russian campaign, had the absence of news 
brought Napoleon’s faithful friends face to face with 
the terrifying hypothesis of his death in battle, or as 
the result of a terrible illness ! His silence for several 
days in succession would give an air of probability to 
the theory that a disaster had occurred under the walls 
of Moscow. But Savary reflected that he should not 
be advised of so momentous an occurrence by a person 
who, like Lahorie, was in prison the preceding night. 
As minister of police, he should have been notified first 
of all. The release of an imprisoned conspirator could 
have been secured in no other way than by violence. 
Could it be that the empress and Cambaceres, the 
arch-chancellor, had at once determined, upon learning 
of the emperor’s death, to order his arrest, who was 
the emperor’s' friend and faithful servitor, the desig- 
nated protector of the King of Rome! And again, 
what could have induced them to set at liberty an 
avowed enemy of the imperial regime , like Lahorie? 
There was an air of mystery and improbability about 
this conp-de-tJieatre , which at once awoke in his mind 
a doubt of the authority of the man who came to 
arrest him, and of the loyalty of the higher powers 
in whose name Lahorie claimed to act. 

Guidal, who accompanied Lahorie, observed, out of 
the corner of his eye, the internal struggle which was 
taking place in Savary’s mind, as he gradually recov- 
ered his self-possession. He put his lips to his com- 


332 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


rade’s ear, and doubtless advised him to kill Rovigo. 
Then he turned to the soldiers and said : 

“ A sergeant ? ” 

As there was no reply, Guidal continued, with a 
threatening expression:. “Where is little Noirot?” 
and looked about for the officer whose name he called, 
and whom he probably knew to be more in sympathy 
with the enterprise, and more reliable than the soldiers 
present. 

A subaltern named Fessard, so it is supposed, who 
probably had some grudge against Savary, thereupon 
shouted, pointing at him with his sword: 

“ We’ll run the fellow through like a frog ! ” 

Savary started up, and hastily sought shelter behind 
a chair. lie thought that he could detect an indig- 
nant expression upon Lahorie’s martial features. 

He walked up to him, and said with deep feeling : 

“Lahorie, my old comrade, w r e have eaten hard 
tack together, we have lain in camp and bivouac, and 
sabred Austrians together. Remember the Army of 
the Moselle ! Many, many times we have defied death 
side by side, you can’t have forgotten it ? One doesn’t 
forget such things as that. You don’t mean to allow 
me to be murdered ? I am a soldier as you are ; you 
can't have become an assassin, nor can it be that I am 
to be your victim to-day.” 

Lahorie made an energetic gesture of denial. 

“ Who spoke of assassination ? I am no assassin, 
Savary ! where do you see assassins here ? ” 






“ NEVER FEAR, OLD FELLOW ! YOU HAVE FALLEN INTO GENEROUS 

HANDS ! ” 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


333 


“ These men under your command look like cut- 
throats ; I don’t know under whose influence they are 
acting ! But you, Lahorie, cannot have forgotten what 
I did for you at the time of the Moreau affair ; I sayed 
your life ! ” 

“ True ! ” muttered Lahorie, deeply moved by the 
reminiscence, and yielding to the influence of the old 
good-fellowship evoked by his former comrade-in-arms. 

He walked quickly up to Savary, seized his hand, 
and shook it warmly, saying : 

“ Never fear, old fellow ! you have fallen into 
generous hands ! Come, finish dressing and we will 
take you to a place where you will be in safety.” 

With trembling hands Savary put on his clothes. 

Lahorie ordered General Guidal to escort the minis- 
ter, with Desmarets, chief of the secret police, whom 
Boutreux had placed under arrest, to the prison of La 
Force. 

It was a very serious blunder, for if he hesitated to 
put the minister of police to death he should at least 
have kept him as a hostage in his house, and not have 
deprived himself of Guidal and his men. 

Savary was taken in a cabriolet to La Force. He 
tried to leap from the carriage on the Quai delTIorloge 
and fell upon the pavement. A knot of idlers, who 
stood watching the procession, recognized the minis- 
ter of police who was far from popular, seized him, 
and instead of assisting him to escape, turned him over 
to his guards once more. 


334 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


At La Force, Savary said to the turnkey, who was 
amazed to have the minister’s name to register, but 
obeyed what he supposed to be an order from a regu- 
larly-constituted superior authority : 

“ My friend, I don’t know what is going or. It’s a 
most extraordinary, inconceivable state of affairs ! 
Who knows what the result w ll be? Put me in an 
out-of-the-way cell, give me something to eat and 
throw the key into the well ! ” 

Boutreux, pending Savary’s arrest, took possession 
of the police department headquarters, and arrested 
Desmarets and Baron Pasquier. He installed there, 
as the latter’s successor, the Corsican, Boccheiampe, 
the liberated prisoner, who had been dragged about 
since dawn among the conspirators, realizing but little 
of what was going ym about him, but following on 
enthusiastically behind Guidal and Malet toward a 
mysterious goal — a goal which, for this poor fellow, 
was to be the plain of Grenelle. 

Pasquier was a shallow-brained coward. He allowed 
them to do with him as they would. He understood 
nothing of what it all meant, but he did not dream for 
a moment of resisting, of calling upon his agents, of 
unmasking the impostor, whom he should at least 
• have suspected. 

Everything seemed to succeed according to Malet’s 
wishes. The police with its two great departments, 
the ministry of public safety and the prefecture, the 
municipal guard of Paris, the National Guards of the 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


335 


10th Cohort, the official staff of the Hotel de Ville, 
and i hat of the prefecture of the Seine, all obeyed the 
orders of the conspirators. 

Colonel Soulier, in accordance with Malet’s instruc- 
tions, took possession of the prefecture of the Seine. 
The prefect was absent. Comte Frochot was in the 
habit of passing every night at his country house at 
Nogen t-sur-Marne. He had not returned. 

The employes; were called together by Soulier who 
read the decree of the senate to them. No one pro- 
tested. The news seemed as probable to civilians as 
to soldiers. Not a voice was raised to ask what Marie- 
Louise and her son were doing, or what had been 
done with them. When the emperor had fallen, naught 
of his former surroundings remained standing. This 
fact detracts not at all from the emperor’s grandeur 
and prestige, but proves, on the contrary, what an ab- 
normal monstrous affair the existing regime was, and 
demonstrates most convincingly the madness, after the 
disastrous restoration of the Second Empire, of ever 
looking forward to a successful third attempt, without 
crime. 

One of the heads of departments at the prefecture, 
a learned man, no doubt, who chose to communicate 
with his official chief in language not accessible to the 
vulgar ear, made haste to inform the prefect of what 
was taking place by despatching a messenger with a 
note containing these two Latin words : Fuit Imp era- 
tor (the emperor has lived). It was the time-honored 


336 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


formula used at Rome to announce that a Caesar had 
become a god. 

In Faubourg Saint-Antoine the messenger fell in 
with Frocliot riding tranquilly along at a foot-pace. 
He misread the note at first and could not understand 
the Fuit. He thought that the word was fecit, which 
would make no sense. 

He quickened his pace, however, and reached the 
prefecture, where Soulier received him with proper 
respect, while his command, drawn up on the Place 
de Greve, saluted him in due form. 

Thereupon occurred an unlooked-for and truly comi- 
cal scene. 

Soulier, mechanically repeating the lesson taught 
him by Malet, informed Frochot of the emperor’s 
death, the meeting of the senate, the appointment of 
General Malet to be military governor of Paris, and 
the organization of a provisional government, the 
members of which were to assemble at the Hotel de 
Yille at nine o’clock. At the same time he handed 
the prefect the order to prepare an apartment at the 
Hotel de Yille for the sitting of the provisional com- 
mittee, of which he gave him the names. 

Frochot was a former member of the Constituent 
Assembly. In that immortal body he was the colleague 
and friend of Mirabeau. It may be that in that mo- 
ment of surprise, when be learned so abruptly of the 
emperor’s death and the species of revolution conse- 
quent thereon, he had a relapse of republicanism. He 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


337 


may have fancied himself back in the old days of 
nascent liberty. It is more than probable, too, that 
he was attacked with the inclination to desert and 
the eagerness to make terms with the new powers, 
which were so abundantly and shamelessly manifested 
in the days of disaster by all the emperor’s most ser- 
vile creatures, and even by those who had fought by his 
side and were the most gorged with favors. Frochot, 
although Napoleon had made him a count, may have 
forgotten his sovereign’s generous treatment, as soon 
as he knew that that sovereign had met his death in a 
distant land, and would not return to bestow more 
favors upon him. And then, too, his name appeared 
in the list of the provisional government, and that fact 
was well calculated to give him confidence in the new 
order of things. 

Not only did the too credulous prefect raise no ob- 
jection to the orders transmitted to him, but he made 
haste to carry them out. With eager assiduity, which 
in the sequel seemed most laughable to the public, and 
by no means meritorious in the eyes of Napoleon 
redivivus , he sent for upholsterers and decorators, and 
stimulated the zeal of the staff in putting one of the 
large salons in order so that the provisional govern- 
ment might open its sitting at nine o’clock. 

The government did not come. Its inventor had 
been arrested in the meantime, and Frochot, when he 
learned at last that he had been fooled and that the 
emperor was not dead, exclaimed : “ As if so great a 


338 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


man could die ! ” He was afterwards subjected to 
well-deserved disgrace. 

Guidal wasted priceless time consigning Savary to 
La Force ; any non-commissioned officer could have 
performed that duty. 

His instructions directed him to go to the War 
Department and make sure of Clarke, Duke of Feltri. 
When he reached the department Clarke had learned 
of Rovigo’s arrest and decamped, to await results in a 
place of safety. He had sufficient presence of mind, 
however, to sign an order for the pupils at Saint- 
Cyr to march at once to Saint-Cloud under arms, 
for the protection of the empress and the King of 
Rome. 

Clarke hastened to the residence of Cambaceres, 
the arch-chancellor. This important functionary, who 
performed something like the duties of regent in the 
emperor’s absence, had been neglected by Malet. He 
thought, no doubt, that Cambaceres, having no force 
under his direct orders, could neither serve nor injure 
him. Perhaps, too, he was sufficiently well acquainted 
with the arch-chancellor’s versatile character, to opine 
that that courtier of success would forbear to protest 
against an accomplished fact and would rally to the 
support of the new masters. 

He was first apprized by Comte Real of what was 
going on. Real was a councillor of State, and at the 
first rumor that troops were in motion in the city, he 
betook himself to the headquarters of the governor of 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


339 


the city, his friend General Hullin, in quest of informa- 
tion. 

Malet’s soldiers were there before him and barred 
his passage. He gave his name : 

“ I am Comte Real ! ” he said, haughtily. 

“ There are no counts any more ! ” retorted an 
officer of the 10th Cohort, Sub-Lieutenant Lefevre. 

Real, taken by surprise, made no attempt to get to 
the bottom of the affair, but hastily descended the 
staircase and ran to Cambaceres, to inform him that a 
revolution was in progress, and they were abolishing 
the titles of nobility conferred by the emperor. 

The arch-chancellor was a shrewd, cunning, very 
sceptical and very intelligent man, but utterly without 
courage, even of the civic variety. 

When he heard what Real had to tell, he was 
seized with a convulsive trembling, and a sudden 
pallor overspread his face. The sub-lieutenant’s re- 
mark, reported to him by Real, led him to believe 
that the Jacobins were in control of affairs. 

“ The Terror is come again ! ” he muttered. 

Several officials came running to his door at the 
news. He gave orders to admit them, and summoning 
his self-control, tried to reassure the tremblers. 

“ Send for my barber,” he said to his valet, “ and 
bid him come quickly and shave me. My head may 
not be on my shoulders this evening, but at all events 
they shall find it in good condition ! ” 

While this order was being executed he set about 


340 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


piecing together the various fragments of news which 
reached his hotel, seeking to separate truth from ex- 
aggeration in these contradictory statements. 

Guidal, without troubling his head about the Duke 
of Feltri, who did not await his coming, took his seat 
in the minister’s vacant armchair, which pleased him 
immensely, and wasted his time giving trivial orders, 
receiving heads of departments and lazily exchanging 
compliments with them — at such a moment a very 
perilous proceeding. He -looked upon himself as the 
de facto head of the department, with a long tenure of 
office before him, and acted as if he had been regu- 
larly installed in Clarke’s place. 

Lahorie fell into the same error. He also played 
at being the real minister of police. Having passed 
a full hour in introducing himself to his subordinates 
and receiving their congratulations, he tranquilly ran 
his eye over the reports as if he had been in office 
many months, and issued a host of orders on matters 
of no importance. Then he sent for a tailor and was 
measured for a full-dress costume. With all the rest, 
he passed his leisure time issuing invitations for a 
grand dinner he proposed to give. At last, as he 
found no other urgent matter requiring his attention, 
he ordered the carriage which was provided for the 
minister to use, and was driven to the Hotel de Ville 
to pay an official visit to the Prefect of the Seine. 
He then returned to his own headquarters and busied 
himself drawing up a circular letter, announcing to 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


341 


the different officials who were under his orders his 
appointment to the ministry of police. 

This child’s play compromised the success of the 
whole conspiracy . Malet was not properly supported, 
and his acolytes hastened the inevitable downfall of 
his ephemeral authority. 

While Soulier was taking possession of the Hotel 
de Ville, and Lahorie and Guidal were effecting 
Savary’s arrest, Malet led his little troop to the hotel 
of General Hullin, military commandant of Paris. 

The hotel was on Place Vendome opposite general 
staff-headquarters. 

En route Malet ordered a halt, and called at a wine- 
shop on Rue Saint-Honore, opposite Saint-Roch 
church. The shop-keeper was standing at his door, 
watching the soldiers. 

“ Haven’t you a shoemaker named Ladre in your 
house ? ” Malet asked him. 

“ Yes, Ladre has lodgings here, but he has gone 
out ; he will probably return soon. What do you 
want of him ? ” said the tradesman, surprised that a 
general in full uniform, leading his troops in person, 
should halt in front of his shop to inquire about a 
cobbler. 

Malet, visibly annoyed by the absence of the man 
he sought, gave the signal for his men to proceed, 
shouting to the wine-merchant: 

“ Tell Ladrd to come to me at the Hotel de Ville ! 
He will ask for General Malet’s aide-de-camp” 


342 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


This Ladre has always been a mysterious personage. 
Nothing more is known of him than that he made 
Malet’s boots. He used to bring him his boots at the 
hospital and chatter considerably. Malet had prob- 
ably sounded him, and he was likely to have relations 
with some tradesmen in the quarter, royalists or re- 
publicans, equally disaffected to the imperial regime 
and impatient for a lasting peace. Malet, it is sup- 
posed, intended to confer upon Ladre some civil office, 
probably to make him mayor of his district, which 
was to be the headquarters of the new government. 
Both Ladre and the astonished winp-merchant who 
delivered the message were afterwards interrogated. 

At the corner of Rue Saint-Honore Malet halted 
once more. He sent Rateau with orders and a gen- 
eral’s uniform to one of his friends, General Desnoyers, 
who lived in that neighborhood, and whom he had in 
mind for the post of chief-of-staff of the garrison. 
Desnoyers did not stir, and thus saved his life. 

In the square Malet divided his troop into two 
platoons. A lieutenant named Provost was ordered 
to take possession of the staff-headquarters with one 
platoon. His orders were to allow no one to leave 
the building. A letter was handed the lieutenant for 
Colonel Doucet, chief-of-staff. This letter contained 
a brigadier-general’s commission for Doucet, and an 
order to arrest his second in command, Laborde, whom 
Malet considered a dangerous man, and suspected of 
devotion to the emperor. 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


343 


These preliminary steps taken, Malet, at the head 
of the second platoon, marched to the headquarters of 
General Hullin, commandant of the garrison of Paris 
and of the first division, in the absence of Junot, Gov- 
ernor of Paris, then in Russia. 

Hullin, Comte Iiullin, was the famous volunteer from 
the faubourgs who led the people in the assault on the 
Bastille on July 14, 1789. To this popular destroyer 
of the old regime , whom Napoleon made a count and 
in whom he placed absolute confidence — witness his 
selection to preside over the court-martial which tried 
the Due d’Enghien — the protection of Paris was en- 
trusted. The emperor chose his man well. 

Hullin was in bed when Malet made his appear- 
ance. 

Having waited a few minutes to give him time to 
rise, Malet made his way to a salon, accompanied by 
a captain and four National Guards. Hullin joined 
him almost immediately, having hastily donned a robe- 
de-chambre. He did not know Malet. 

Malet told his tale of the emperor’s death, the 
senatus-consultum, his own appointment, and the form- 
ation of a provisional government, and added : 

“ I am charged with a painful duty. You are dis- 
missed from your command, general, and I am to re- 
place you. Be good enough to hand me your sword ! 
I am instructed to arrest you.” 

Hullin became deathly pale. He was a man of 
unbounded energy, and was not easily intimidated. 


344 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


He was overwhelmed, however, by this avalanche 
of news, and faltered : 

“You arrest me ? Why ? ” 

Almost instantly he recovered his self-control, and 
added, with great presence of mind, which discon- 
certed Malet for an instant : 

“ General, I demand to see your orders.” 

“ Willingly ; let us go into your office ! ” Malet re- 
plied, struggling to appear indifferent and dignified. 

The energetic Hullin was in full possession of his 
faculties once more. He fastened his calm, stern eye 
upon Malet’s face, and the conspirator was abashed. 
Suspicion awoke in Hullin’s mind. The thought came 
to him that this might be a fraud. Was it not most 
unlikely that he should be ordered under arrest ? What 
crime had he committed? Furthermore, was Malet 
the man who would have been entrusted with that 
duty ? The suspicion of a conspiracy gained strength 
in his mind. Malet was simply an impudent impostor, 
but how was he to be stopped ? He must have men 
at his back, and Hullin, in a dressing-gown, with no 
force at his disposal, was all by himself in his apart- 
ments, at the mercy of this adventurer who claimed to 
have a warrant in due form for his proceedings. 

To gain time, Hullin asked to see his orders. 

He opened the door of his cabinet, and walked 
toward his desk, followed by Malet. 

It did not occur to him to use his herculean strength, 
for he was six feet tall, and Malet was slight and of 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. .345 

medium height, but he desired to arm himself, in order 
to impose respect upon the intruder until assistance 
should arrive. 

Hullin half-opened the drawer in his desk to get a 
pair of loaded pistols which he kept there. 

Malet detected his purpose. 

As he laid his hand upon the weapons, Hullin said 
sharply : 

“ Well ! your orders ? ” 

“ Here they are ! ” Malet retorted, discharging a 
pistol at him point blank. 

Hullin fell with a shattered jaw. Hs did not die, 
but his left cheek was always disfigured by a terrible 
scar, which won for him from the Parisian jokers the 
sobriquet of BouffeAa-Balle. 

Malet left Hullin stretched upon the floor. He 
thought that he had killed him. It was one less dan- 
gerous adversary. A brave fellow, no doubt, and an 
heroic child of the people, was this Hullin, who took 
the Bastille almost single-handed. 

“ But you can’t make omelettes without breaking 
eggs, nor a revolution without breaking heads ! ” ob- 

Ou 7 O 

served the general, philosophically, as he replaced his 
smoking pistol in his belt. 

All of Malet’s combinations had succeeded thus far. 
Paris would soon be his. To crown his victory and 
place all branches of the public service in his hands, 
it only remained for him to occupy the headquarters 
of the general staff. 


346 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


That bade fair to be a simple task. The head- 
quarters were directly opposite ; he had only to cross 
the square. He assumed that Colonel Doucet, having 
received his general’s commission, had carried out his 
orders and arrested his second in command, Laborde. 
The taking possession of the headquarters was a mere 
formality. 

He walked alone across the centre of Place Ven- 
dome, where the detachments of the Paris guard, sent 
by Rabbe, were drawn up in line. As he passed 
through the doorway of the hotel, he espied a very 
tall man, wearing a half-civil, half-military costume, a 
long, closely -buttoned redingo te, hussar breeches, a 
police cap on his head and an enormous cane hanging 
to his wrist by a leathern thong. The man wore the 
cross of the Legion of Honor upon his coat. 

“ It seems to me that I know that face ! ” said 
Malet to himself. “ I should say it was a former 
drum -major, one La Violette ; can he be one of 
us ? ” 

He thought for a moment of stopping and speaking 
to the old soldier, whom he took to be one of his sup- 
porters, but moments were precious ; he had delayed 
only too long on the road for Ladre and General 
Desnoyers ; now he was in a great hurry to conclude 
his audacious undertaking, and to acquire legal stand- 
ing by taking possession of staff-headquarters. From 
that point, he could direct at his pleasure, and to favor 
his own designs, all the troops remaining in France, 





^ HERE THEY ARE!” MALET RETORTED, DISCHARGING A PIS'P‘1 

AT HIM POINT PLANK. 













-v i 


•V ■ V 





v V » I 





































































































THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


347 


and the National Guard, an army of malcontents 
ready to support the insurrectionary government with 
its bayonets. The staff-headquarters was his palace 
of the Tuileries. There he would reign, there at last 
he would be master and would hold in his hand all the 
threads of power.. 

And so he walked on, with triumphant air, still the 
victim of his dazzling dream. The prisoner of the 
preceding night was commanding troops, issuing orders, 
appointing officials. He had put the governor of 
Paris out of the way. He had consigned to La Force 
the Minister and Prefect of Police, whose places were 
filled by escaped prisoners, his accomplices. Nowhere 
was a single voice raised in protest; no one threw 
doubt upon the legality of the power assumed by 
Hullin’s successor. One more slight effort, and the 
phantasmagoria would become reality at the staff- 
headquarters, the miraculous fairy-tale would change 
to a memorable, actual event, and the night of fan- 
tastic dreams would end in a great historic day. 

There seemed to be nothing more to fear, and 
Malet, with head held high, entered the building on 
Place Vendome with the proud, confident, resolute air 
of one who has surmounted all the obstacles that lay 
in his path, and saying to himself, as he put his hand 
to his sword : 

“ Napoleon is nothing now, and I possess his magic 
wand ! ” 

He did not suspect that at the wrist of the old 


348 


THE ROMANCE OF A CONSPIRACY. 


soldier whom he thought that he recognized in the 
crowd of bystanders, the giant with the great cane, 
hung the wand which was to put an end to the fairy- 
tale, make the beautiful chariots simple gourds once 
more, and substitute prisons for the improvised 
palaces. 


XVII. 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BKRNARD. 

Henriot, on leaving General Malet, returned 
slowly on foot through the Faubourg Saint-Antoine, 
utterly indifferent to the men and things he met. 
Neither the animation of the old, hard-working revolu- 
tionary quarter, nor the pretty workgirls returning 
home after their day’s labor, nor the busy traffic in 
the roadway, where carriages, horses, diligences, 
wagons, jostled and crowded one another, for night 
was coming on, and the supper hour quickened the 
pace of travellers, tradesmen and artisans — nothing of 
all this aroused his interest. 

He walked on as if crushed by the weight of the 
thoughts which were pressing upon his brain. 

The shadows of the past were flitting about him. 
It was as dark in his heart as in the city. As the 
October day drew sadly to its close, he wandered along, 
anxious, absorbed in thought, dissatisfied with himself 
and everybody else. 

He asked himself again and again if he acted wisely 
and honorably in giving Malet the countersign for the 
night. 


350 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARD. 


He could make no use of it that would disturb the 
security of the country. It was not as if they were 
on the frontier. And then the general, although he 
was a bitter enemy of the emperor, was incapable, as 
he himself said, of ordering or executing a dishonor- 
able action. The possession of the countersign would 
assist him to recover his liberty. There was no dis- 
loyalty about it, no treason. He, Henriot, was not 
entrusted with the duty of guarding prisoners. To 
assist a political prisoner, as Malet was, to defeat the 
watchfulness of his jailors, and pass the frontier, 
would never be looked upon as anything disgraceful 
or criminal. 

Indeed in the eyes of many people it would be 
deemed a meritorious act. And yet Henriot did not 
feel at ease. His conscience reproved him for re- 
vealing to Malet the countersign which was given him 
for the good of the service, not to help prisoners of 
State to escape. The general had never made known 
his plans to him, but he was at liberty to suppose that 
he was in close relations with all Napoleon’s enemies. 
Perhaps a conspiracy was brewing and the general’s 
object in escaping from the hospital was to join his 
friends. He proposed to cross to England, so he 
said, and take passage there for the United States. 
Perhaps he would remain upon British soil, which 
afforded shelter to Napoleon’s most relentless foes, the 
Bourbons, the emigres and the former Cliouan chiefs. 

Henriot felt something very like remorse that he 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BEEnAJRD. 


351 


had thus helped to place in Malet’s hands the means 
of disturbing the welfare of the realm, and of prop- 
agating revolution in France at so threatening, so 
perilous a time. 

His hatred for Napoleon had grown no less. Pie 
detested as bitterly as ever the all-powerful monarch 
who had not hesitated to steal his happiness, to take 
his Alice from him ; but as he had declared to Malet, 
he was a soldier and a Frenchman before all else, and 
did not choose to undertake any enterprise against 
the emperor so long as there was no news from the 
army, so long as the country’s champion, the incarna- 
tion of the army’s glory, and perhaps of its safety, was 
far away amid the desert plains of Russia. So long as 
Napoleon was fighting, he was sacred in his eyes. He 
had suspended his hatred and postponed his revenge. 
When, at the head of his superb legionaries, Napoleon 
should enter his capital in triumph, then he would 
consider, then he would see what was to be done, but 
until then the emperor should be inviolable to him ; 
was not his life bound up with the very existence of 
France ? 

For a moment IPenriot was so stung by these men- 
tal reproaches that he thought of running to head- 
quarters and saying that it would be wise to change 
the countersign for the night, as he had indiscreetly 
divulged the one already given out. 

But he reflected that that avowal would inevitably 
attract attention to himself, that he would fall under 


352 


TUB CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARt). 


suspicion, and would probably be kept constantly 
under surveillance, so that he could not, when Napo- 
leon should return victorious, accomplish his purpose 
and avenge himself upon Alice’s lover. Furthermore, 
the first result of his warning would be that Malet 
would be arrested at the barrier. Surprised in an at- 
tempt to escape, the unfortunate prisoner would find 
his comparatively mild captivity exchanged for some- 
thing much more severe; perhaps he would be de- 
ported to the Seychelles. lie ought not thus to 
betray this prisoner of State who had placed his trust 
in him. He had no choice but to hold his peace and 
let the night pass as it would. On the next day, if the 
general for any reason had failed to carry out his 
plan, he would give him no more countersigns. He 
was alarmed without reason, no doubt ; perhaps Malet 
would select some other evening for his flight. There 
was nothing for him to do but to let things take their 
course. 

His conscience was but partially quieted, however. 
The presentiment, which is simply the excited dread 
of the mind, of a mighty responsibility, of an indirect 
and involuntary participation in some transaction, 
still unknown to him, but of serious, perhaps terrible 
importance, haunted him. 

To distract his thoughts, to drive away these pain- 
ful reflections, the young colonel, whose meditations 
had brought him to the Palais Royal, walked in beneath 
the famous wooden galleries. 


THE CAFE MONT 8 A INT-BERNARD. 


353 


The Palais-Royal at this time was a city within a 
city. There was to be found all that caprice, de- 
bauchery, lust or avarice could desire, side by side 
with works of art and the products of industry. The 
necropolis of to-day, with its resonant, deserted arcades, 
reminding one of the palaces of the procuratori at 
Venice, and, like Venice itself, a spectre, was then a 
swarming, animated, feverish city, where the chinking 
of gold, the popping of champagne corks, kisses, songs 
and oaths were mingled in a strange, confused, deafen- 
ing symphony, which sometimes ended with the pistol- 
shot of a ruined gambler blowing out his brains under 
a chestnut tree. 

The old Palais-Cardinal, where the Regent d’Or- 
leans with his roues held their nightly orgies, whence 
Camille Desmoulins, tearing from a tree a cockade of 
the color of hope, led the people to the Bastille, be- 
came, under the name of the Palais du Tribunat, the 
resort of foreigners, idlers, soldiers, news-gatherers, 
speculators and women of the town. All of pleasure- 
loving, frivolous, spendthrift Paris came together in 
that seductive spot and its appurtenances. The Palais- 
Royal, in all its parts, was much more extensive than 
to-day. The wooden galleries, now replaced^ by the 
glass-enclosed, tiled Galerie d* Orleans, resembled our 
boulevards during the first week in January. In the 
wooden stalls and booths a never-ending fair was in 
progress. On rainy days the sandy soil became a 
swamp. Booksellers, milliners, hairdressers were the 


354 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-HKRNARD. 


occupants of these primitive shops. Balzac, in his 
Grand Homme de Province a Paris , has drawn a 
masterly picture of those literary galleries, where the 
young authors, congregated to look over and discuss 
the latest works. The galleries were called the Camp 
des Tartares. 

The chestnut trees of the Palais-Royal, albeit the 
famous “ tree of Cracow ” was felled at the time of 
the alterations and enlargements undertaken by the 
Due de Chartres, were always the special rendezvous 
of news-hawkers, idlers desirous of talking politics in 
public, and petty usurers. There would gather the 
same pitiable, laughable groups, which can be seen 
to-day under the trees of the Bourse, opposite Rue 
de la Banque. The general appearance of the garden 
was almost the same as now. On the site of the cen- 
tral basin was a wooden circus, which was destroyed 
by fire. 

Gambling and fast women formed the great at- 
tractions of the Palais-Royal, and attracted thither all 
that Paris contained of sharpers, black-sheep and 
chevaliers des Grieux in search of adventure. The 
illumination, which would seem very paltry to us, 
seemed Jike fairyland to the eyes of those days. Every- 
thing is relative. A hundred and eighty lamps, sus- 
pended from the hundred and eighty arches, lighted 
the galleries. The cafes, restaurants and gambling- 
dens were lighted with one or two common Argand 
lamps, then a great novelty. 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARD. 


355 


The gaming establishments were numerous. The 
fame of Number 113 has been handed down to poster- 
ity, but it was a hell of the lowest order, where a stake 
of forty sous was accepted. Frascati’s and the Cerele 
des Strangers were the palaces of gambling. Roulette, 
trente et quarante, biribi, faro, vingt-et-un, were the 
popular games. There was no limit. Sometimes as 
much as fifty thousand francs was won or lost at a 
stroke. All classes of society, allured by the passion 
for play, met on equal terms at the Palais-Royal. 

Every evening a swarm of women swept the Camp 
des Tartares and the wooden galleries with their more 
or less soiled skirts. Many of these “ nymphs ” of the 
Palais-Royal, as they were denominated in the mytho- 
logical style in vogue in the days of Delille, Luce de 
Lancival and Chenedolle, flaunted about in decolletee 
ball-dresses, with monstrous pieces of glass, coarse imi- 
tations of pearls and diamonds, upon their necks and 
arms. * These “ sirens ” (another mythological name 
conferred upon them) were divided into demi-castors 
— this term, which has been rehabilitated in our day, 
is very venerable, you see — castors and fine castors. 
This last category, the most aristocratic of the three, 
mainly frequented the theatres, and never, except by 
accident, consorted with the female rabble of the 
wooden galleries. 

In the Palais-Royal of the empire were eighteen 
gambling-houses, eleven pawn-shops, to say nothing of 
the clandestine establishments for loaning upon collat- 


356 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARD. 


eral, and some thirty restaurants. The basements gave 
shelter to innumerable outlandish devices for money- 
making, as well as cheap theatres and exhibitions of 
curiosities of various kinds. The rooms above and 
the attics swarmed with loose women. Billiard halls, 
confectioners’ shops, pastry-cooks, ice-cream stalls, and 
dealers in eatables of all sorts abounded. There was 
one shop celebrated for its honey ; also a reading-room 
where some forty newspapers were to be found ; a 
very popular emporium of boot blacks, which bore the 
sign, Aux Artistes Reunis (the united artists). 

There was an embarrassing variety of theatrical 
performances and divertissements to choose from : the 
Theatre Fran9ais ; the Theatre de la Montanier, which 
has retained the name of Theatre du Palais-Royal ; 
Serapliin’s Ombres Chinoises ; the Marionettes, where 
“ Pyramus and Thisbe ” drew crowds for a long while; 
the Caveau ; the Sauvage concert-hall, etc. 

The cafes of the Palais-Royal long preserved their 
popularity, and the names of some of them are hon- 
ored with a place in history. Such are the Cafe de 
Foy, the resort of aristocratic loungers, where the 
guardsman Paris killed Lepelletier de Saint-Fargeau, 
member of the Convention ; the Cafe Leinblin, fre- 
quented under the Restoration by Bonapartist officers 
on half-pay, and where many duels were arranged ; 
the Cafe de Valois, the royalist rendezvous ; the Cafe 
Borel, where a ventriloquist was the principal attrac- 
tion ; the Cafe des Mille-Colonnes, where the mirrors 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERN AR P. 


357 


were so cleverly arranged that the twelve\glass pillars 
were reproduced ad infinitum; and the Cafe Mont 
Saint- Bernard, where chance led Ilenriot, morally 
prostrated as he was and somewhat fatigued by his 
long walk, to take a seat after leaving Doctor Dubuis- 
son’s hospital. 

The Cafe Mont Saint-Bernard was fitted up some- 
what like the artistic wine-shops and decorative taverns 
of our own day. Grottos, rockeries, cottages, high- 
roads and precipices were prominent in the decora- 
tions. The guests were served by waiters dressed as 
Italian or Swiss mountaineers. Cosy nooks, made in 
imitation of caves on a mountain-side, enabled cus- 
tomers to withdraw from observation without losing 
sight of what was going on in the cafe, or of the grim- 
aces and contortions of two or three clowns, whose 
acrobatic performance upon a small stage at one end 
of the room alternated with selections executed by an 
orchestra of four pieces. 

Henriot was walking through one of the secluded 
paths of this Alpine cafe, looking for an unoccupied 
table, when he noticed a man and woman in one of the 
grottos, who started in surprise when they saw him. 

“ Colonel Henriot ! ” 

“ Major Marcel ! ” 

These reciprocal exclamations of recognition were 
followed by a hearty hand-shake. Marcel invited 
Henriot to take a seat at his table, and introduced his 
wife, Renee. 


358 


THE CAFE MONT SAIN T-B Eft N A it D . 


Henriot liad come to the Palais-Royal solely because 
he had nothing else to do. No other motive led him 
thither than the desire to escape the reproaches of his 
conscience and the mutterings of anxiety in the crowd 
and the excitement. He had long known Marcel, and 
Renee, too, whose adventures Madame Sans-Gene and 
La Yiolette had related to him. He had no reason 
for declining the invitation so cordially extended to 
him, and he sat down with them. They conversed 
upon indifferent subjects, glancing now and then at the 
stage, where a burlesque scene was being performed 
by two comic actors. 

One of them, dressed like an English clown in nan- 
keen trousers, blue coat with gilt buttons, red waist- 
coat and a yellowish hat with long nap, burlesqued to 
perfection certain absurd insular peculiarities, to the 
great delight of the guests. His cheeks were bordered 
with long whiskers made of hemp. He twisted them 
vigorously as he went through with his gambades and 
contortions. 

Our three friends took but a moderate interest in 
the performance. They all seemed deeply preoccu- 
pied, and they laughed only with their lips. Marcel 
and Henriot both wore an anxious expression ; and 
though their bodies were sitting at one of the tables in 
the Mont Saint-Bernard, their thoughts were else- 
where. In Renee’s eyes there was the shadow of sad- 
ness. Suddenly Marcel consulted his watch. 

“Oh, don’t go yet! this isn’t the time you said!” 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARD. 


359 


pleaded Renee, laying her hand upon her husband’s 
arm. 

“ I have fifteen minutes more, my dear ; then I must, 
as you know, join my friends.” 

There was a gleam of terror and of vague entreaty 
in Renee’s look, but she accepted the situation, and 
sighed as she counted the minutes. 

“ This day has been very long and very short to 
me,”' she whispered in Marcel’s ear ; “ long, because 
you were so long away from me, and short, because 
you say that it may be several days before I see you 
again.” 

“Yes, yes, I know!” said Marcel hastily, anxious 
to check a possible indiscreet disclosure on her part. 

“This is a sad thing, this journey of yours that you 
won’t tell me anything about, neither where you are 
going nor for how long,”- persisted Renee. 

She spoke loud enough this time for Henriot to 
hear. “ Do you consider,” she added, “ that I might 
be jealous ? ” 

“Foolish girl!” said Marcel, taking her hand to 
quiet her, and perhaps to induce her to hold her peace 
in Henriot’s presence. 

But the curiosity of women is a persistent quality, 
and injunctions to keep silent are apt to make them 
all the more inclined to talk. 

“ What more can this General Malet have to say 
to you to-night,” she continued, earnestly, “after you 
have been with him all day ? ” 


360 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BEIiNARD. 


Marcel gave her hand a violent squeeze. 

“ Hush ! hush ! for heaven’s sake ! ” he exclaimed 
hastily, accompanying his words with an angry glance. 

Renee drew back with a pout upon her lips. 

But Henriot had overheard. 

“ Do you know General Malet ? ” he asked Marcel. 

“ Yes — a little,” replied the major, visibly an- 
noyed by the question. 

“I know him too,” rejoined Henriot, innocently; 
“ in fact, I called upon him to-day at the hospital 
where he is confined.” 

“You? But I remember,” continued Marcel, sud- 
denly lowering his voice, “ the general spoke — very 
discreetly, you may be sure ! — of an officer, on duty 
at headquarters, with whom he had had some com- 
munication ; can it be you ? ” 

“It must be myself,” replied Henriot, tranquilly. 

“ Then you are one of us ? ” 

“Yes and no,” said the colonel, evasively. 

This response was ev.dently not wholly satisfactory 
to Marcel. He did not know how far Malet’s in- 
fluence extended in the army ; and all the conspira- 
tors were unknown to one another save 1 the five 
worthies who were together at Malet’s quarters during 
the day. The general led them to believe that he had 
extensive resources, numerous partisans, distributed 
through all ranks, notably the army. Marcel could 
hardly doubt that Henriot, having had an interview 
with Malet on that day, had joined the conspiracy 



“hush! hush! for heaven’s sake!” he exclaimed hastily 






THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARD. 


361 


like himself ; and Henriot’s prudent attitude and re- 
served speech were calculated to confirm him in this 
opinion. He determined, however, to find out beyond 
a joerad venture. 

Taking from his pocket his portion of the letter 
torn up by Camagno, he handed it to Henriot, say- 
ing: 

“ Do you recognize this ? ” 

Henriot looked at the bit of paper, which seemed to 
convey no meaning to him. Evidently he was not in 
the secret, and Marcel, much annoyed, replaced the 
paper in his pocket without a word. 

But suddenly Henriot cried : 

“ Wait a moment ! that bit of paper you handed me 
just now — didn’t it come — ” 

And without fini-hing his sentence, he pulled out 
the letter he picked up from the hall-floor at General 
Malet’s, and handed it to the wondering Marcel : 

“ One would say that that bit of paper was torn 
from this letter ; look and see ! ” said he. 

“ True ! ” muttered Marcel ; “ how came you by 
this paper, pray ? ” 

“T found it on the corridor at General Malet’s. I 
did not suppose it was of any importance, but I kept 
it for fear it might fall into injudicious hands ; for al- 
though the piece torn off is blank, the other half is 
covered with writing. Look for yourself.” 

As he put the edges of the two fragments together 
to make sure that they were parts of one and the 


362 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERN ARD. 


same letter, Henriot ran his eye over the written 
page. 

He had read but a word or two when he started, 
and made a movement as if to crumple the letter, 
muttering, as he looked out of the corner of his eye at 
Marcel, who was lost in wonder : 

“ This is a serious matter ! ” 

“ What, in God’s name ? What have you there ? 
Is it a letter from Malet ? ” 

“No! a mere draft, probably ; signed by an initial 
only.” 

“ What does it say ? you frighten me ! May I see 
it?” 

“ Head,” said Henriot. “ As you know General 
Malet, you will perhaps be able to divine the whole 
meaning of the letter ; perhaps you may be in the 
secret.” 

“ Give it to me,” said Marcel, coldly. 

He took the letter from Henriot’s hand and read 
what follows : 

“ Dear Ximines : 

Everything seems to be taking a decidedly favor- 
able turn : if, as we hope, Malet decides to take ad- 
vantage of auspicious circumstances, Jupiter Scapin, 
as dear old De Pradt so well christened him, will be 
imbedded more deeply than ever in the swamps of 
Poland, the inundated fields of Russia. He will not 
be here very soon. The empress, at the first alarm, 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARD. 


363 


will fly home to papa. The King of Rome will be no 
obstacle. A very shrewd and very devoted gentleman, 
M. de Maubreuil, offers his services as preceptor. In 
his hands the pretended King of Rome will not annoy 
us long. 

“ Your General Malet is an idiot. It is easy for us 
to pull the wool over his eyes. Continue to promise 
everything and pledge the king’s word, but the parlia- 
ments — they are sometimes of some use, having made 
no promises, and authorized nothing — will do full 
justice on all these vile soi-disant penitents. All those 
who demand guarantees will be hanged, the others 
exiled. As for ourselves, we need have no fear; I 
shall have the place of grand equerry, Prince de Lam- 
bege having agreed to resign. Fouche will be made 
first minister ; the king has promised him that place 
which will be the fitting reward of his intelligence and 
other eminent qualities. A bishopric for you, Mire- 
poix or Auch, with a hundred thousand francs to pay 
your debts. King Ferdinand VII, when restored to 
his throne, will doubtless contribute also to reward 
you for your loyal services, but Ferdinand is not rich, 
and I advise you to remain in France and take the 
bishopric, which is a lucrative place, and sure. 

“ As to Monsieur Malet, as he comes of good stock, 
and is about to render a great service to his Majesty 
and to France, he will be allowed to retain the rank 
of lieutenant-general, and made a commander of the 
Order of Saint-Louis, with a pension of a thousand 


364 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARD. 


louis, half to revert to his wife at his death. But if, 
instead of serving us faithfully, he also chooses to 
make demands, if he thinks fit to persist in this re- 
publican nonsense, which he parades on every occa- 
sion, and which serves no other useful purpose than to 
attract the sympathy of the vulgar, we will send him 
to rot at Pierre-Encise or the Chateau d'lf. However, 
promise everything, accept everything, refuse nothing 
that Malet and his confederates ask ; make them be- 
lieve that we will allow them to set up their republic. 
Monseigneur de Clermont-Tonnerre claims that it is a 
venial sin to fight the Jacobins with their own 
weapons. 

“ Be up and doing, then, and spur on your Malet. 
The time will never be more propitious. T.” 

“It is signed with a T. Who would be likely to 
sign in that way ? ” queried Henriot. 

“ T. — Talleyrand, of course ! Oh ! the twofold 
traitor ! What do you say, colonel, to taking a turn 
in the garden ? The contents of this paper are too 
serious for us not to exchange our ideas thereupon. 
Renee will wait for us a moment, and look at the 
performance.” 

“ I am with you,” said Henriot, deeply moved. 

When they were alone under the chestnuts, Marcel 
began, sorrowfully : 

“ So Malet conspires with the royalists ! did you 
know it, colonel ? ” 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARD. 


365 


“ I knew nothing of General Malet’s plans. I knew 
Iris grievances against the ministers who kept him in 
prison, his hatred for the emperor, whom he blames 
for the 18th Brumaire, for his acceptance of the 
crown and for his absolute power : but I swear to you 
that I did not know that he was at the head of a con- 
spiracy, all organized, all ready to break out, as this 
letter indicates.” 

“ And a conspiracy with Talleyrand, Fouche, Cler- 
mont-Tonnerre, all the pillars of fanaticism and intol- 
erance, who would like to bring the feudal regime back 
upon us with their king. Oh ! it’s infamous ! And I 
fancied that by forming an alliance with Malet, I was 
helping on the sacred cause of the independence of 
nations, and preparing the way for the federation of 
European States ! ” 

“ Perhaps General Malet doesn’t suspect that the 
royalists are using him simply as a tool.” 

“ He should suspect it ! Whom does he have about 
him? Lafon, an abbe, Boutreux, an escaped semi- 
narist ; the Polignacs are his friends. Whom does he 
place in the front rank of his provisional committee ? 
Alexis de Noailles and Montmorency, two dukes, two 
hard and fast representatives of the old regime . This 
letter, which must have fallen from the pocket of one 
of his guests, completely dissipates my illusion. I have 
been dreaming, and am suddenly awakened. I leave 
you free to continue to follow General Malet, colonel ; 
but I part company with him.” 


366 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARD. 


“ But I had no intention of assisting to carry out 
his plans ; I told him so to-day.” 

“Oho! is that so! Then this evening — to-night 
— you know nothing ? ” 

“ Nothing at all. The general informed me of but 
one thing — his purpose to leave the hospital, probably 
to-night.” 

“ He didn’t tell you what he proposed to do after 
he made his escape ? ” 

“ No. I have no means of knowing any more than 
you choose to tell me, for you seem well posted as to 
his plans.” 

“It is better for us both, colonel, that you remain in 
ignorance. You have no desire to help the royalists I 
fancy, to subject France to the hateful Bourbons 
again ? ” 

“ No, nor do I p ro P ose to undertake anything 
against Napoleon at this moment, while he is fighting 
for France before Moscow.” 

“ That’s your affair : but come, let us join Renee, 
who is probably impatient at our absence, and we will 
let Malet and his enterprises severely alone. Let him 
and his monk conspire to bring back the Bourbons, — 
dupe and accomplice at once of the Talleyrands and 
Touches. Come, colonel, you and I should not be the 
playthings of these villains, in whose hands Malet is a 
mere jumping-jack of which they hold the string; they 
make him gyrate in the dark, but if he fails they will 
strangle him in broad daylight ! ” 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNAKH. 


367 


And Marcel, restraining his irritation as best he 
could, led Henriofc back to the Cafe Mont Saint-Ber- 
nard. 

That establishment was in great commotion. The 
air was filled with cries, as if a quarrel were in prog- 
ress. The guests, many of them on their feet, hid 
from sight the little stage, whence the shouts and oaths 
seemed to proceed. 

Marcel said a few words in Renee’s ear, and she at 
once arose. 

“ Excuse us,” said he, giving Henriot his hand, 
“ we must go. What I have learned,” he added in a 
low voice, “ makes it necessary for me to warn Malet 
that he cannot rely any farther upon me, in any 
way.” 

“ You may tell him the same from me, although I 
did not give him my word.” 

“ I will simply say that I have seen you. He will 
guess the rest. By the way, burn that paper, which 
may compromise you if it should get lost again ! ” 

“ How prudent you are ! ” 

“ You see I have conspired a good deal already,” 
rejoined Marcel, smiling, “ but it’s all over now. 
Renee has just learned that her adopted father, La 
Brisee, the Comte de Surgeres’ former keeper, is dead, 
leaving her a" nice little property in Mayenne. She 
would have had to go alone to Laval to take over the 
property. Now we shall go together ! And there we 
shall wait until the hour strikes for the deliverance of 


368 


THE dAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARD. 


nations and the abolition of frontiers, planting cab- 
bages and gathering apples the while ; eh, Renee ? ” 

“ Oh ! how happy I am ! ” cried she, who, long be- 
fore, in the armies of the republic, was known as the 
Pretty Sergeant. And she kissed Marcel, certain that 
the caress would not be noticed amid the tumult which 
was momentarily increasing. 

The quarrel had degenerated into a battle. Stools 
and glasses were flying through the air. The shouts 
redoubled in fury, and the tearful voice of the proprie- 
tress could be heard from among her little cups of 
sugar, calling to the waiters : 

“ Run for the police ! ” 

“ Let us go ! let us go ! ” said Marcel hastily to his 
companion. “ This may turn out to be a serious mat- 
ter, and I have no right now to take the chance of 
being involved in a row ; I must warn the person you 
know of not to expect me. Adieu, Colonel Henriot.” 

“Adieu, — or rather, au revoir ! for we shall meet 
again one day or another.” 

“I shall remain in the country, out of sight, forgot- 
ten, at peace, but not indifferent, until the day when 
the universal republic calls me from my retirement. 
Come, Renee ! ” 

They left the cafe unobserved, all the customers 
being attracted by the uproar and confusion toward 
the little stage at the end. 

Henriot also walked in that direction, curious to 
know the occasion of the tumult. 


THE CAFE MONT SAJNT-BERNARD. 


369 


“ Wh y, it’s La Yiolette ! ” he cried, suddenly, as he 
spied the former drum-major of grenadiers, his tutor in 
the army of the Rhine and Moselle, his rescuer when 
he was a prisoner at Dantzig, and the devoted facto- 
tum of Marshal Lefebvre, surrounded by men and 
women, pulling and hauling him, and trying to rescue 
a man whom he held by the throat in a fair way to be 
•strangled. What could he be doing in that melee ? 

La Yiolette, when he heard Hen riot’s voice, re- 
leased his victim, and stepped toward his pupil, whom 
he had not seen since the day of the interrupted mar- 
riage at the Chateau of Combault. 

The prisoner essayed to rise and make his escape, 
but La Yiolette seized him in a vise-like grip by the 
tail of his smock frock. He was one of the clowns in 
the farce that was in progress, the man who played 
the ridiculous Englishman. 

He was in a pitiable state. One of his hempen 
whiskers had been torn off, the other was hanging, a 
complete wreck. His hat was on the ground, his 
waistcoat was unbuttoned ; in the struggle with La 
Yiolette his wig had gone askew, and he was trem- 
bling with fear under his paint. With his wig and 
whiskers gone, he showed his real face. All those 
present, Iienriot not the least, were struck by the ex- 
traordinary resemblance which this red-tail bore to 
Napoleon. 

“Why, it’s the emperor! ” was heard on all sides. 

“Yes! this vagabond has the impudence to steal 


370 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNAR1). 


our emperor’s august features ! ” said La Violette, 
with comical indignation, as if appealing to the better 
sense of the spectators, who seemed to deplore his vio- 
lence and tried to rescue the maltreated clown from 
his hands. “ If only that was all he had stolen ! ” 

‘•I am no thief! I am an artist! I am Samuel 
Barker, British subject ! ” cried the pseudo-Napoleon, 
seeking to escape from La Violette’s grasp and to en-* 
list partisans among the spectators. 

“ You are a thief ! ” retorted the ex-drum-major, 
emphatically; “fancy, colonel,” he said to Henriot, as 
if he were the only one in that crowd entitled to an 
explanation, “ I picked up this chimpanzee one night 
at the Chateau of Combault.” 

“ Down ! down ! ” cried the more distant spectators, 
anxious to see what was going on, while the front 
rows, much entertained by this unexpected addition to 
the programme, crowded upon each other, impatient 
to hear the sequel. 

“As I was making my round,” continued La Vio- 
lette, undismayed by the shouts, “ I found this gentle- 
man prowling about in the park : he undertook to 
play cunning, and I gave him a kick which landed him 
I don’t know where ; but it did the business. I heard 
him groaning, and I had no special grudge against 
him so I carried him home and took care of him. To 
cut it short, he recovered ; and do you know what the 
blackguard did to repay my hospitality? he decamped 
one fine day, carrying off some clothes, a little money 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARD. 


371 


and my beautiful cross of the Legion that the emperor 
gave me ! He forgot to leave his address. Luckily, 
one of the marechale’s coachmen told me he had seen 
him here at the Palais-Royal. So I set about beating 
up all the shows in the quarter and I find my joker 
here. I couldn’t resist the temptation to put my grap- 
pling irons on him, and that’s the whole story, colonel ! ” 

Every one roared with laughter. Suddenly there 
was a commotion at the door. Measured steps were 
heard, and the clash of weapons. Four men appeared, 
led by a corporal, who had been sent for to the nearest 
guard-house. 

“ Follow us ! ”, said the corporal to Sam Barker ; 
“ and move quicker than that ! ” 

He was led away, shivering with fear, by the four 
men. 

“ You are the complainant ; come with us to the 
guard-house,” said the corporal to La Violette. 

They set out behind the four men and their prisoner, 
La Violette explaining the affair to the corporal. 

When they were in the garden, Henriot, who had 
followed them out at some little distance, overtook 
them and said to the corporal : 

“ Let yon fellow go ; I haye some questions I 
must ask him ; and if there’s any occasion for it, La 
Violette and I will suffice to bring him to the guard- 
house.” 

The corporal hesitated an instant, but the rank of 
colonel had a tremendous effect upon him. 


372 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNA RD. 


“ Do you withdraw your complaint ? ” he at last 
asked La Violette. 

“ I withdraw it ! ” said the drum-major, majesti- 
cally, at a sign from Henriot. 

“Very well! grenadiers, ’bout face!” shouted the 
corporal. 

Having executed this manoeuvre, the five worthies 
sauntered away, without particular attention to their 
step, toward a neighboring restaurant, into which they 
vanished with their muskets and bearskin hats, to con- 
sume a can or two of beer with echaudes. 

Sam Barker remained between La Yiolette, who 
was all ready to lay hold upon him jf he showed signs 
of trying to run away, and Henriot, who was gazing 
at him with deep interest. 

“ You say this man stole from you ? ” he asked La 
Yiolette. “And you took him into your quarters 
down yonder at the chateau ? ” 

“ I was fool enough to do so, colonel,” replied La 
Yiolette, humbly. “ Men do make fools of them- 
selves, you know ! I had punished him pretty 
severely, having caught him prowling about the park, 
and I took pity on him, and thought I would do some- 
thing to repair his phiz which I had injured a little. 
Really I had no grudge against him and I hit him a 
bit hard — and that’s how monsieur became my guest, 
and was able to steal from me. Oh ! brigand ! you'll 
give me back my cross or I’ll take it out of your 
hide ! ” 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARD. 


373 


La Violette emphasized his words with a blow that 
brought Sam to his knees, greatly disturbed in mmd 
at the thought of this retaliatory process with which 
he was threatened in that deserted garden at night. 

“ Benefactions are often wasted, my poor La Vio- 
lette, ” said Henriot, “ but you haven’t told me how 
the rascal happened to be there in the park at night. 
What was he doin^ there ? ” 

u That I can’t say, colonel ; I supposed he had come 
there courting one of the marechale s scullery-girls. 
At least, that’s what lie- told me. But, since then I 
have been suspicious that he was lying.” 

“ What gave you that idea ? ” 

“ Fancy, colonel, that a few days after this heathen 
came under my roof, Thomas, the under-gardener, when 
he was taking out the dead leaves that had fallen into 
the pond and were obstructing the flow of the little 
stream, pulled up a singular outfit. There was a gray 
redingote, a chasseur’s uniform and a little hat. You 
would have thought, saving your presence, that the 
emperor had been taking a bath in the pond and was 
taken by surprise and left his clothes beh'nd him.” 

“ It’s very strange ! How do you explain the pres- 
ence of clothes just like the emperor’s in that spot ? ” 
“ I can’t explain it. I was going to ask my friend 
here if he knew anything about it, but at the first 
news of the find, he decamped, and carried off what I 
told you.” 

“ There’s some connection, then, between the clothes 


374 


THE CAFE MONT SAJNT-BERNARD. 


and this fellow’s presence in the park the night the 
emperor was at Combault; have you any suspicion 
what brought him there ?” 

“ No, colonel ; but I did notice, notwithstanding the 
bandage which covered half his face, how much this 
clown dared to resemble his majesty.” 

“ The resemblance certainly is most extraordi- 
nary ! ” 

“Just now, when I recognized him in this dive, I 
jumped upon him ; oh ! I couldn’t hold myself back ; 
I fell in among the mountebanks like a bombshell, and 
when I put out my arm this rascal’s wig remained in 
my hand. I almost fell over backward with surprise, 
colonel. Gad ! the police ought not to allow a man 
to resemble the emperor like that ! ” 

Henriot was lost in thought. A gleam of light was 
beginning to shine* in upon his mind, and light up 
many dark corners. 

“ Are you a thief ? ” he said, with a stern glance at 
Sam Barker. 

“I am an English subject,” stammered the clown. 

“ One doesn’t interfere with the other,” growled 
La Yiolette. 

“ Our laws punish thieves, whether they are French 
or English,” rejoined Henriot. “ I took you away 
from yonder National Guards for a moment, but La 
Yiolette here, whose fist you know, and myself, can 
easily take you to the guard-house. From there you 
will make the acquaintance of a French prison.” 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNAR1). 


375 


“ I know all about them ! prisons are all alike ! ” 
muttered Sam. 

“ Do you want to avoid it ? ” 

“ What must I do ? ” asked Maubreuil’s agent more 
boldly. “ You’ve got me, and you can do what you 
please with me. If you don’t ask anything too hard 
to let me go, I promise to do what you say.” 

“Very good! ” said Henriot, “we’ll see. Tell me 
what you were doing in the park at Combault ? ” 

“ Is that all you ask ? ” said Sam, joyfully. 

He expected a more exorbitant ransom. 

“ Be careful and not deceive me ! ” 

“ Why should I lie to your Honor ? I’m not afraid 
to tell the truth. The only thing I’m afraid of is that 
your Honor won’t believe what I say.” 

“ Say on, and then we’ll see.” 

“ It’s such a simple thing, of so little consequence. 
Your Honor promised to let lpie go — ” 

“ I repeat the promise ; make your confession ! ” 

“ First of all, your Honor must know that in England 
I was in a gentleman’s service — a general, who was 
also something like an ambassador.” 

“ French ? ” 

“ No, Austrian.” 

“ Ah ! what was this soldier-ambassador’s name ? ” 

“ The Count of Neipperg.” 

Henriot stifled an exclamation, and put his hand to 
his breast. Neipperg ! his father ! Like a phantom 
the features of the Austrian functionary appeared to 


376 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARD. 


him, revealing the secret of his birth at Dantzig, and 
urging him to desert the French flag. Surely he was 
free from all obligations toward M. de Neipperg, who 
had neither loved him nor reared him, and from 
whom everything conspired to separate him. His true 
father was Marshal Lefebvre, who took him in when 
he was a child, and made a man, a soldier, a French- 
man of him ; and his family consisted of honest Cath- 
erine Lefebvre, worthy La Yiolette and Alice. He 
had no reason to reproach himself so far as M. de 
Neipperg was concerned, and yet, at the mention of 
his name, the image of the diplomat, suddenly opening 
his arms to him in that Prussian city, just as he was 
about to be shot as a spy, grieved Henriot sorely. 

However, he mastered his emotion, and demanded 
of Sam what connection there could be between M. 
de Neipperg and his own presence at Marshal Lefeb- 
vre’s chateau. 

Sam thereupon described with evident sincerity the 
nature of the services M. de Neipperg required of him, 
making use of his extraordinary resemblance to Napo- 
leon to gratify his bitter hatred, and to wreak his 
vengeance in eccentric fashion. He also told of the 
disguise he was accustomed to wear in order to com- 
plete the resemblance, and of the ignominious kickings 
he received in the capacity of the emperor’s double. 

“ It was a unique idea ! ” said La Yiolette in an 
undertone. 

“ Come to the point,” rejoined Henriot ; “ for still I 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARD. 3,77 

can see no connection between the kicks and disguise, 
and the Chateau of Combault.” 

u It’s like this, your Honor ! M. de Neipperg made 
the acquaintance of a French gentleman, named Mau- 
breuil — ” 

“ Maubreuil ! ” cried Henriot in surprise. “ Do you 
know M. de Maubreuil ? ” 

“ I have had the honor of being in the count’s ser- 
vice ; he himself sent me to the chateau.” 

“ True — he was there. And perhaps it was he 
who bade you resume your disguise ? Ah ! was M. de 
Maubreuil as fond as your other master of kicking 
Napoleon in effigy ? ” 

“ No ! M. de Maubreuil didn’t amuse himself that 
way ; he made me dress up in the way you know 
about for another, purpose.” 

“What purpose?” demanded Henriot in a voice 
that fairly trembled with impatience. 

“ Well ! your Honor may not believe me, for it was 
a very strange thing and not very interesting that he 
told me to do. I was to go out on a certain night, 
dressed like Napoleon, climb into the park, and go to 
a window which would be open, and there — ” 

“Was it a window on the ground-floor? — finish, 
you villain ! ” cried Henriot, breathing quickly and 
violently shaking Sam, who was terrified anew, not 
understanding what there was in his story to cause 
the young colonel’s violence. 

“ I will finish, your Honor ; but don’t choke me ! ” 


378 


THE CAFE MONT SA1NT-BERNARD. 


“ What were you to do when you were in front of 
the window ? Don’t lie, or — ” 

“ Why should I lie, when I did nothing at all ? An 
officer arrived just at the moment when, as M. de 
Maubreuil told me to do, I was going to climb into 
the room and leave my little hat there. I didn’t have 
time. I ran away then, and threw the costume into 
the pond, for it was useless to me and might be dan- 
gerous to wear. That’s the whole truth, honored sir.” 

Henriot threw himself into La Yiolette’s arms, 
laughing, weeping, gasping for breath. 

“Ah, what a frightful mistake! ” he murmured, in 
his joy. “La Yiolette, she was innocent — and I 
dared suspect her — I dared slander the emperor ! 
Oh ! let us go at once to Alice ! I long to throw my- 
self at her feet, and ask her to forgive me ! Do you 
think she will ? ” 

“ I think this cur would have done well to let out 
all this at Combault, when I kicked him in the park. 
However, it’s all right ! — the wrong can be made 
right. Colonel, Mam’zelle Alice still loves you. She 
has wept all the tears out of her eyes since they last 
heard from you.” 

“ You think she will forgive me ? ” 

© 

“ I know it. She would often say to me : ‘ La Yio- 
lette, what is he doing? I know he hasn’t gone to 
join the army — he is still in France. I am sure he 
will come back to me.' ” 

“ Did my Alice say that ? ” 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARD. 


379 


“ Yes, colonel ; and she thought much more that 
she kept to herself.” 

“ I understand everything now but one thing: Why 
did Maubreuil concoct this scheme ? what was his ob- 
ject? Oh! I shall know in time; but just now the 
most important thing is to go and obtain my pardon. 
La Yiolette, if you can find some horses, we will start 
for Combault at once.” 

“You mean to go cruising around the country at 
night ? Why, they won’t let us pass the barrier — 
we must have the countersign.” 

“ I have it,” said Henriot, eagerly. 

And, as he said it, he thought of General Malet, to 
whom he had disclosed it. The remorse he already felt 
was greatly increased by the letter he and Marcel had 
read, and the ex-major’s indignation upon discovering 
the hopes that the royalists founded upon Malet. Per- 
haps his purpose in escaping was to attempt some coup- 
de-main in conjunction with the English and the emi- 
gres. He resolved to repair his error in part, at least. 
He no longer had any reason to seek vengeance upon 
Napoleon, since his innocence, as well as Alice’s, was 
now made clear. 

“ I must return to-morrow morning,” he said. “ Im- 
portant events may take place in Paris, and I must be 
at my post at staff-headquarters to-morrow.” 

“ Very well, let’s be off, colonel. I know where to 
find horses — on Rue du Bouloi, not two steps from 
here. But when I came to the Palais-Royal, I didn’t 


380 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARD. 


expect to pass the night on horseback all the same ! ” 
said La Yiolette, shaking his head. 

“You can come again : the Palais-Royal will still 
be here to-morrow and the day after .’ 7 

“ Possibly : but after I had disposed of my thief, I 
expected to join some friends — old fellows, I saw 
them as I passed — and we would have celebrated a 
little. That doesn’t happen to me very often, for the 
marcchale doesn’t like to be put out.” 

“ La Yiolette, I will see that you have a week’s 
leave, and you can spend it all at the Palais-Royal, if 
you choose ; but not till I have seen Alice and she has 
forgiven me! You must come to Combault with me, 
to testify to what you have heard, if for no other 
reason.” 

“ I understand, colonel. Let’s go and get our horses. 
By the way, what are we to do with this bundle of 
rags ? ” 

“You’ll see! Here!” said Henriot, taking two 
napoleons from his purse ; “ here’s something to drink 
to my health.” 

“ Long life to your Honor ! ” cried Sam, enthusias- 
tically. 

“Wait! — you shall have two more if you return 
the cross you stole from this gallant soldier.” 

“ I know where it is. The man who bought it 
hasn’t sold it yet. Where shall I give it to you? ” 

“ Give us your address,” said La Yiolette, “ we may 
need you.” 


THE CAFE MONT SAINT-BERNARD. 


381 


Sam hesitated a moment ; then said, as if reassured 
by the feeling of the two napoleons in his pocket : 

“I live on Rue d’Argenteuil; Number 14. I trust 
you, gentlemen : don’t give the address to anybody.” 

“Never fear. Day after to-morrow T will bring 
you the two napoleons ; until then, don’t get arrested, 
above all things ! ” 

“ Oh ! I’ll take good care not to. Long life to your 
Honor ! ” cried Sam, gayly. 

“ Say, rather, long life to the emperor ! ” said La 
Violette ; “ that means something.” 

Puffing out his cheeks, Sam roared out into the 
night, in a stentorian voice, an echoing “ Vive V Em- 
pereur ! ” 

“It’s always pleasant to hear that, eh, colonel?” 
said La Violette, putting his hand to his cap. 

“Yes, yes,” replied Henriot, deeply moved; “it 
does one good ! For a long time I’ve longed to say 
it, and haven’t dared.” 

As they entered a deserted passageway leading to 
the Cour des Fontaines, he repeated in an undertone, 
as if they were the words of a magic incantation, a 
sacred formula : 

“ Ah, yes ! ‘ Vive l ’Empereur / Vive Napoleon / ’ ” 


XVIII. 


THE PLAIN OF GRENELLE. 

Malet entered the building devoted to staff head- 
quarters alone. He ran rapidly upstairs. Everything 
seemed to be going as he could wish. He had but to 
exchange a grasp of the hand with the chief-of-staff, 
Doucet, to ratify his appointment as general, and, in 
conjunction with Laborde’s successor, despatch new 
instructions to all commanders of posts. Thus the 
taking possession of headquarters was a mere formal- 
ity, to which no obstacles were to be anticipated. 

His meeting on the square with the old soldier, the 
former drum-major of the Guard, seemed to him of 
excellent augury. The old troopers of the republic, 
Napoleon’s grumblers, were coming over to him. Un- 
questionably, people were weary of the despot ; and 
every mouth would unite in the cry of “ Down with 
the tyrant ! ” as at Rome on the day of Caesar’s death. 

His face wore a smile as he entered the office of 
Chief-of-Staff Doucet, and said to him, putting out his 
hand : 

“ General, I have come to discuss with you the 
proper measures to be taken.” 


383 


The plain of grenelle. 

Doucet, who was sitting down, seemed to hesitate. 
He suspected the fraud. 

Suddenly Laborde, of whom Malet was very distrust- 
ful, made his appearance. 

“ What are you doing here, monsieur ? ” cried 
Malet. “ I ordered you to be placed in close confine- 
ment.” 

“ General, I cannot go out, the troops prevented „■ 
me,” said Laborde, with a sign of intelligence to 
Doucet. 

Malet detected the gesture. He felt that he was 
suspected, probably lost. He attempted to resort to 
force, which had succeeded so well with Hullin. He 
put his hand in his pocket and drew a pistol. 

But a mirror betrayed him. Doucet rose from his 
seat, and Laborde jumped upon him. Both shouted : 

“ Help ! to arms ! ” 

Malet tried to fire, but a gigantic form interposed. 
He received a vicious blow from a cane upon his left 
arm, while the right was seized by a powerful hand, 
which prevented his using the pistol. 

Pie recognized the ex-drum-major whom he had no- 
ticed in the crowd in front of the building. La 
Yiolette held him, disarmed and powerless, in his 
grasp. 

Laborde meanwhile repeated the cry of, “ To arms ! ” 
in the corridor. 

In a moment the room was filled with gendarmes , 
who rushed upon Malet and bound him. 


384 


THE PLAIN OF GR KNELL E. 


“ Beware, messieurs ! ” he cried, trying still to im- 
pose upon the men who were unmasking in him the 
conspirator and the forger : “harm will come to you 
if you don’t let me go ; beware ! ” 

“ Gag him ! ” exclaimed Laborde, who exhibited 
great energy and admirable presence of mind. 

The order was executed. The faithful Rateau 
arrived, attracted by the uproar. He tried to defend 
his general, and drew his sword. In an instant he 
was seized, bound and gagged like his chief. 

It was ten o’clock. The Malet conspiracy was 
ended. It had lasted just twelve hours from the escape 
from the hospital. The romance of a night. 

After brief deliberation, Doucet, Laborde and La 
Violette determined to exhibit Malet and Rateau, 
bound and surrounded by gendarmes , upon the bal- 
cony. 

“ These men are impostors ! The emperor is not 
dead ! Your father still lives ! ” cried Laborde. 

And La Violette, placing his cap on the end of his 
cane went through a masterly imitation of the order 
for the drums to beat. 

The soldiers who were drawn upon Place Vendome 
had no very clear understanding of what was going 
on, but they joined in the deafening shout of “ Vive 
V Empereur ! ” all the same. 

Thereupon an extraordinary, almost comical, shift- 
ing of positions took place in Paris. The troops 
were sent back to their barracks. The real ministers 


THE PLAIN OF GRENELLE. 


385 


Savary, Pasquier, were released from La Force, and 
Malet, Guidal, Lahorie replaced them. 

The soldiers of the Paris guard and the men of the 
10th Cohort returned meekly to their quarters, com- 
menting upon all this going and coming, and the con- 
tradictory orders, and wondering if these latest arrests 
were not part of a conspiracy, a coup d'etat. 

Colonel Rabbe was taken by surprise by this sudden 
overturn, as he had been by the news of the emperor’s 
death. He had not had time to finish dressing and 
join his men. 

“ What were you thinking of, Colonel Rabbe ? ” 
Doucet asked him : “ how came you to send your 
companies off this way and that, without orders from 
headquarters ? ” 

Rabbe could but confess that he completely lost his 
head when he learned of the emperor’s death. 

Guidal and Lahorie submitted to arrest without re- 
sistance. Both of them believed in the reality of 
Malet’s authority, founded upon a decree of the sen- 
ate. Lahorie was being measured for a full-dress 
costume, and Guidal was breakfasting tranquilly at a 
restaurant, when they were seized. They believed 
themselves to be regularly appointed ministers, and 
had conspired unknowingly. Therefore they had 
taken no precautions, had done nothing to strengthen 
their position. Lahorie’s soldiers had no flints in their 
muskets, and had bits of wood in place of tinder, as at 
drill. 


386 


THE PLAIN OF GRENELLfi. 


Boutreux and the Corsican, Boccheiampe, were 
arrested without difficulty. 

At midday it was all over. The curtain had fallen 
upon this pathetic farce. As at the end of a fairy 
tale, actors and spectators alike wondered how they 
could have fallen victims to such a delusion. 

Cambaceres went at once to the palace of Saint- 
Cloud, and informed the empress of the conspiracy and 
its sudden ending. 

Marie-Louise manifested but little emotion. She 
was just preparing to ride out, and was visibly annoyed 
by the arch-chancellor’s visit, which delayed her en- 
joyment. 

“Well, monsieur,” said she, calmly, “what could 
your conspirators have done to me, the daughter of 
the Emperor of Austria ? ” 

And with that she dismissed Cambaceres, seeming 
to attach but little importance to the events of which 
he informed her. 

Marie-Louise’s apathy on this occasion was certainly 
feigned. If she was not in the secret of the con- 
spiracy, she was perhaps warned that something was 
brewing against her husband. 

The disaffection which she had never failed to 
manifest, was heightened by a certain contempt for the 
imperial throne which could be put in peril, even for 
an instant, by obscure, escaped prisoners. 

Comte Frochot paid a fitting penalty for the credulity 
with which he received the news of the emperor’s 


THE fiLAIN OF CRENELLE. 


387 


death, and his zeal in preparing a salon at the Hotel 
de Ville for the meeting of the new government. In 
vain did he exclaim, when he was told of Malet’s im- 
posture, and the falsity of the report of Napoleon’s 
death : 

“ I said to myself that so great a man could not 
die ! ” He was dismissed from his office. 

The conspirators, their accomplices, and the soldiers, 
whose guilt consisted in having obeyed too passively 
orders which they supposed to be regular, were turned 
over to a court-martial held on October 27 th. 

The court appointed to try the accused, twenty-four 
in number, was thus constituted : 

Comte Dejean, first inspector-general of engineers, 
president; Brigadier-General Baron Deriot, General 
Baron Henry, Colonel Geneval, Colonel Moncey, Ma- 
jor Thibault, judges ; Captain Delon, judge- advocate. 

The sitting of the court opened at seven in the 
morning. At four in the afternoon the judgment was 
rendered. 

Malet maintained a very firm attitude, taking every- 
thing upon himself, assuming the entire responsibility. 

The judge-advocate at one time felt called upon to 
interpose this request, which shows Malet’s sang-froid 
before the judges : 

“ I beg monsieur le president to impose silence upon 
Malet, who is dictating replies to all the accused.” 

During Soulier’s examination, Malet exclaimed : 

“ I took every possible means to prove that I was 


388 


THtf PLAIN OF GRENELLE. 


acting under superior orders. I think that Soulier 
should have obeyed me as he did. I am responsible 
for his mistake ; I took the utmost pains to lead him 
into it, as my testimony shows.” 

In the course of his own examination, he made a 
noteworthy reply. 

“ These officers,” said he, “ are innocent ; in their 
eyes I was obeying the orders of those above me, and 
it was their duty to obey mine.” 

“ Who were your accomplices, then ? ” the president 
rashly inquired. 

“ All France! you, monsieur, all of you, my judges, 
if I had succeeded ! ” 

The following were convicted of crimes against the 
welfare of the State, of an attempt to destroy the 
government and the order of succession to the throne, 
and of stirring up the citizens to take up arms, and 
were unanimously condemned to death, and to con- 
fiscation of their property : Malet, Lahorie, Guidal, 
generals ; Soulier, colonel ; Steenhover, Piquerel, 
Borderieux, captains ; Lepars, Fessart, Regnier, Bleu- 
mont, lieutenants ; Lefevre, sub-lieutenant ; Rateau, 
corporal. 

By a vote of six against one Colonel Rabbe re- 
ceived the same sentence ; and by a vote of five 
against two Boccheiampe the same. 

The following were acquitted : Girard and Rouff, 
captains; Lebas and Prevost, lieutenants; Gomont, 
alias Saint-Charles, sub-lieutenant; Viallavieilhe, Ca- 


THE PLAIN OF GRENELLE. 


389 


ron, Limozin, subalterns ; Dulin and Caumette, ser- 
geant-majors. 

Malet, Rabbe, Soulier, Piquerel and Borderieux, 
who were decorated, were expelled from the Legion of 
Honor in open court. 

The sentence was carried out on the 29th October, 
at four in the afternoon, on the plain of Grenelle. 

Colonel Rabbe and Corporal Rateau obtained a 
reprieve, and their sentences were eventually com- 
muted. 

About three o’clock in the afternoon seven fiacres 
drew up in line on Place de l’Abbaye, where gendarmes 
on foot and mounted, and a half-squadron of dragoons 
were waiting. 

The prison doors were thrown opep, and the con- 
demned were escorted two by two to the carriages. 
In each carriage were two prisoners on the back seat 
and two gendarmes on the front seat. 

The melancholy procession set out through Rues 
Sainte-Marguerite (to-day Rue Gozlin), Tarvanrie, Gre- 
nelle Saint-Germain, des Invalides and Avenue La 
Motte-Piquet ; it passed the £cole Militaire, crossed 
the Champ de Mars and halted at the spot where Ba- 
boeuf was shot. 

On the way, Malet, who was riding in the first car- 
riage with Lahorie, said to him : 

“ General, your indecision is responsible for this ! ” 

The reproach was only in part well founded. If 
Malet had informed Lahorie that he was minister only 


390 


THE PLAIN OF CRENELLE. 


by grace of an insurrection, he would have acted with 
much more promptness and decision. He believed 
himself to be a regularly-appointed functionary, and 
firm in his seat; that was why he wasted so much 
time trying on clothes and sending out invitations to 
dinner. 

Very steadfast and very heroic was Malet to the 
last. There was something theatrical in the attitude 
and accent with which he delivered his last words : 

“Young men, remember the 23d of October! ” he 
cried to a group of students. 

In front of the licole Militaire he doffed his hat, 
crying : 

“ Soldiers ! I fall, but I am not the last of the 
Romans ! ” 

A cordon of troops held back the crowd. When 
the carriages drove through the Barriere de Grenelle, 
there was a shout of : “ Hats off ! ” and every one un- 
covered. It is the custom in the presence of condemned 
men thus to salute death ; or else it is simply the 
desire to have a better view which leads spectators in 
the rear to shout to those who occupy more advan- 
tageous positions. 

A fine, cold rain was falling. The crowd thinned 
out, and the wineshops in the neighborhood of the 
lOcole Militaire and the barrier were filled to over- 
flowing. All the windows were occupied. 

The carriages halted in the square and the drums 
beat. The condemned men alighted and walked to 


THE PLAIN OF GRENELLE. 


391 


the place of execution, for the most part with a firm 
step. 

Malet led the way ; Boccheiampe, the poor Corsican 
who was involved in the affair without the slightest in- 
tention on his part, dragged himself along last. He 
demanded a priest. 

At that supreme moment some of the poor wretches 
spoke : 

“ My poor family ! my poor children ! ” sobbed 
Soulier. 

“ Will some one of you be kind enough to tell me 
why I am to be shot ? ” Piquerel coolly demanded of 
the soldiers who composed the platoon of execution. 

“ Villain ! ” cried Guidal to Delon, the judge-advo- 
cate, as he approached to read the sentence ; “ three- 
fourths of the men you helped to convict are innocent, 
and you know it ! ” 

“ Monsieur le gendarme,” said Boccheiampe to the 
soldier who held his arm, “ I asked for a confessor.” 

“ I was born under the flag and have always been 
devoted to the emperor. Why should you shoot me ? 
Vive V Empereur ! ” cried Borderieux. 

“ Your emperor, indeed ! ” said Lahorie, turning 
upon him ; “if he had been in my heart, I’d have 
.stabbed myself long ago.” 

“ Silence in the ranks ! ” shouted Malet. “ It is for 
me to speak ! ” 

Stepping toward the officer of gendarmes, he said : 

“ Monsieur, as a general, and as leader of those who 


392 


THE PLAIN OF GRENELLE. 


are to die here by my fault, I ask leave to give the 
word to fire.” 

The officer bowed his head assentingly. 

Malet ran his eye over the troops. The square 
contained 120 men. The platoon of execution con 
sisted of 30 men, all old soldiers, while those who 
formed the square were all very young. 

The condemned men were placed in a single line 
with their backs against a wall. In the angle of the 
wall were four carts, each drawn by a single horse, on 
which the bodies were to be taken away. These lugu- 
brious vehicles were accompanied by attendants from 
Val-de-Grace, attired in gray frocks with blue collars, 
who were to attend to the burial of the bodies. 

The officer of gendarmes ordered the drums to beat. 

Thereupon Malet, looking the motionless soldiers 
full in the face, called out in a sonorous voice : 

“ Platoon, attention ! Carry, arms ! Prepare, arms ! 

— Very bad, very bad; let’s begin again ! ” 

Something like a shudder ran through the platoon 

as they resumed the first position. 

“ Attention, once more ! ” continued Malet. “ Carry, 
arms ! Prepare, arms ! That’s better ! Now, ready ! 

— aim ! — fire ! ” 

Thirty reports rang out. The ill-fated wretches fell, 
all except Malet. He was wounded only. Several of 
the soldiers hesitated to aim at him. 

He remained on his feet. He put his hand to his 
breast, from which the blood was flowing. Then he 
fell back against the wall. 


THE PLAIN OF GRENELLE. 


393 


“ What about me, my friends ! you have forgotten 
me ! ” he cried. 

“ And me ! ” said Borderieux, half rising, streaming 
with blood. “ Vive V Empereur ! ” he murmured. 

“ Poor fellow,” said Malet ; “your emperor has 
received a mortal blow, like you ! — Attention, reserve 
platoon ! ” he resumed. 

“Forward, reserves!” shouted the officer of gend- 
armes. 

At the second discharge Malet fell, face downward. 

The execution was finished. It was half-past four. 
The bodies were carried to Clamart. 

Abbe Lafon and the monk Camagno were the only 
ones who escaped. They were in favor under the 
Restoration. 

Louis XVIII pensioned Malet’s widow, and made a 
son of the general, Aristide Malet, sub-lieutenant of 
chasseurs, in gratitude for the injury his father had 
sought to do Napoleon, and the great service he had 
actually rendered the Bourbons, by proving that, if the 
emperor should die or disappear, the public officials, 
the army and the citizens were not likely to remember 
the existence of the King of Rome. 


“ They died like brave men,” said La Violette that 
evening to the people at Combault. “ I am not sorry 
that I helped arrest Malet, for he had conspired 
against the emperor and was doing the Cossacks’ work 
here. But those poor officers, who thought they were 


394 


THE PLAIN OF GRENELLE. 


obeying regular orders, and leaders they were bound 
to obey, I’d give half of my limbs to see them here, 
alive and pardoned ! ” 

And good La Violette wiped away a tear with the 
back of his hand. 

To banish his gloomy thoughts he rose and looked 
tenderly at Henriot, as he came along under the trees, 
joyous and happy, with Alice hanging on his arm and 
talking up into his loving face. 

Behind them, her kindly features beaming with ma- 
ternal joy, came Catherine Lefebvre, gazing fondly at 
her two proteges , united at last, and whose happiness 
bade fair to be lasting and unalloyed. 

The misunderstanding had been very soon cleared 
up. 

Henriot, when he arrived at Combault with La Vio- 
lette, made his confession to good Madame Sans-Gene. 
He confessed the error into which he had fallen when 
he believed he had surprised the emperor with Alice, 
and told her of his flight, his thirst for vengeance, and 
how the truth was at last made known to him at the 
Palais-Royal, at the meeting of La Violette and Sam- 
uel Barker, the emperor’s double. 

Catherine laughed heartily at the mistake, and at 
the way in which it was discovered ; then said to Hen- 
riot : 

“ Go and kiss your wife ! ” . 

But Henriot was restless and anxious. Malet’s 
plans, which Camagno’s letter revealed in part, marred 


THE PLAIN OF GRENELLE. 


395 


his joy. What was going on at Paris ? Had Malet 
made Ids escape? Why did Major Marcel, when he 
took leave of him so abruptly at the Palais-Royal, 
seem so depressed, and in such haste to notify some 
one and countermand something? Ilenriot, notwith- 
standing his longing to remain with Alice, determined 
to return to Paris. 

At that, La Yiolette volunteered to make the trip 
in his stead. He would go to staff-headquarters and 
send word to him by special messenger if there was 
anything new. 

The drum major, on approaching the Hotel de Ville, 
was greatly surprised at the movements of the troops 
there, and tried to find out what was going on. Among 
the crowd he spied a police inspector named Paques, 
whom he had known in the regiment. From him he 
learned the news of the emperor’s death and the in- 
stallation of the new government, with General Malet 
for military commandant 

At the name of Malet, La Yiolette, having been in- 
formed by Henriot of the general’s purpose to escape, 
at once understood the fraud. Being determined to 
shield Henriot, whose absence from headquarters at 
such a time might lead to serious results for him, he 
asked his companion to loan him his inspector’s badge, 
promising to return it during the day, after he had used 
it as a passport. Not being on duty, the inspector 
consented. Provided with the badge, La Yiolette, 
under the name of Paques, obtained admission to head- 


396 


THE PLAIN OF GRENELLE/ 


quarters, and contributed, as we have seen, to Malet’s 
arrest. 

When the Arch-Chancellor Cambaceres, upon being 
informed of his share in upholding the imperial regime , 
wished to reward La Viole-tte, he had but one request 
to make : promotion and an honorarium for Paques, 
whose badge and name he had used. 

The marriage of Henriot and Alice was celebrated 
very quietly in the chapel at Combault a few days 
later. La Yiolette was one of the witnesses, and on 
the day of the* ceremony recovered his stolen cross, 
whereupon he handed Sam Barker the two napoleons 
promised by Henriot, to which he added two more. 
Sam, in the intensity of his delight, swore friendship 
for life and death to La Yiolette, to whom he hoped 
some day to be able to prove his gratitude, — and, with 
the four napoleons, the psuedo-emperor lost no time in 
getting drunk conscientiously in one of the dens of the 
Palais-Royal. 

Meanwhile, disaster upon disaster had overtaken the 
Grande Armee. 

On September 14, 1812, at two o’clock 'in the after- 
noon, Napoleon came in sight of Moscow. Sitting 
in his saddle upon an elevation which overlooks 
Moscow, as Montmartre overlooks Paris, — Moscow, 
with its Moskowa, whose winding course resembles 
that of the Seine, is not unlike Paris in its general 
configuration, he looked down upon the city of gilded 


THE PLAIN OF GRENELLE. 


397 


domes. Its little steeples, its cupolas, its pink, yellow 
and green houses, its Kremlin, — a city within a city, — 
its bazars and palaces, were bathed in a flood of glori- 
ous sunshine. It was like Venice and Byzantium to- 
gether, enveloped in a golden haze. 

The dream of the conqueror was near its fulfilment. 
His object was attained at last. Asia lay open before 
him. His head swam with pride as he gazed at the 
magnificent spectacle, while the army, sharing his emo- 
tion, brandished their weapons, waved their flags, hung 
their bearskin caps on the ends of their bayonets, and 
shouted with a single voice, as the kneeling pilgrims 
hailed the Holy City : “ Moscow ! Moscow ! ” 

But how terrible a scene was that autumnal sun, 
which shone so brightly over the fair city, to witness 
ere it set ! 

It in no wise resembled the emperor’s triumphant 
entry into the cities he took by storm or by sur- 
render in the old days. At first Napoleon refused to 
credit the reports he received from his officers that the 
city was deserted. Not a sentinel came forth to meet 
him, to salute him and go before him into the conquered 
city. He angrily called for the “ boyards .” “ Where 

are the boyards ? Go and find the boyards ! ” he cried. 
There was no reply. The order could not be executed. 
The boyards were flying with Rostopchine. Already, 
men of sinister appearance, with torches in their hands, 
were running through the streets setting fire to the 
houses. 


398 


THE PLAIN OF CRENELLE. 


Napoleon uttered a sigli of relief when lie first saw 
the capital of the czars lying at his feet. 

c Yonder is the famous city at last,” he said to 
Beillac. “ It was time 1 ” 

But the burning of the city destroyed the bewitch- 
ing effect of the vision of fairyland. 

Moscow was on the point of slipping from between 
his fingers, of vanishing from his sight. Soon he 
would hold naught but a charred brand, and would 
ride into the city through streets strewn with ashes. 

Rostopchine’s plan was carried out. Soon the 
flames would arise on all sides, disputing possession of 
the sacred soil with the French. 

Rostopchine subsequently sought to deny himself 
the honor of having performed this act of savage 
heroism, which served the cause of Russia so well, 
and ruined Napoleon. There is no lack of proof, 
however, that the conflagration was not accidental, 
nor started by the French, but that it was deliberately 
planned and executed as a strategic manoeuvre. In 
the first place there was the great quantity of inflam- 
mable materials, petards and the like, hidden in Ros- 
topchine’s house ; his explanation that they were in- 
tended for use as fireworks on some coming holiday, 
is hardly to be taken seriously. The season was not 
favorable for pyrotechnic exhibitions. In the second 
place, his palace was almost the only one spared in 
the general conflagration ; the result being that he 
sought to avoid the force of this significant exception 


THE PLAIN OF GRENELLE. 


399 


by setting fire with his own hands to his country 
house. Then there was the order issued to the citi- 
zens to evacuate, and the fact that the fire-engines to. 
the number of one hundred and thirteen were taken 
away; — an army in retreat has but little need of 
engines and firemen ; and, lastly, we may mention the 
coincidence that not only Smolensk, but every town 
occupied by the French, was set on. fire by order im- 
mediately before evacuation ; all these facts establish 
beyond a peradventure Rostopchine’s barbarism and 
his glory. Russia, invaded, defended itself, in accord- 
ance with the tactics advised by Neipperg, D’Armsfekl 
and Rostopchine, by fire, pending the arrival of the 
cold weather. 

Countess Lydia Rostopchine, who demonstrated her 
filial respect for her father by publishing his memoirs, 
gives the real solution of this much discussed problem. 

“ My father,*’ she says, “ never gave anybody a 
direct command to set Moscow on fire, but he took 
measures beforehand to make sure that that should 
be done.” 

It is a fine-spun distinction. Countess Lydia adds 
that her brother accompanied his father when he rode 
out through the Riazan gate, as Murat’s horsemen 
rode in at the other side of the city. The governor 
took off his hat, and turned about in his saddle, say- 
ing to his son Serge : 

“ Salute Moscow for the last time, my son ; in half- 
an-hour it will be in flames.” 


400 


THE PLAIN OF GRENELLE. 


Why did Rostopchine seek to avoid the glory due to 
the patriot, who resolves to perform a savage but sub- 
lime action to save his country ? Why did he cleanse 
himself, as of a stain upon his name, of the fame of a 
deed, which, even in the eyes of the vanquished 
French, could not fail to win admiration and respect 
for him ? Countess Lydia somewhat modifies his 
denial. “ The Russians at first applauded the destruc- 
tion of their houses, but when they returned to their 
desolate capital, they began to reproach the author of 
the disaster. Rostopchine, thereupon, in his irritation, 
denied the fact which should have won for him the 
everlasting gratitude and affection of his compatriots. 
He wrote at this time : ‘ Since the Muscovites com- 
plain of the halo of glory I have placed around their 
heads, I will take it away ! * History has given it 
back to them.” 

For thirty-five days Napoleon remained at the 
Kremlin, surrounded by the smoking ruins of the still 
burning city. He has been blamed for his inaction. 
It was most necessary, however, that his exhausted, 
half-famished army should have time to recruit and 
revictual. His first intention was to throw up a great, 
intrenched camp and pass the winter there ; to kill 
and salt such horses as they could not feed, and await 
the spring, and with it re-enforcements which would 
enable them to complete their conquest. 

But his constant preoccupation as to the state of 
feeling in France caused the abandonment of that 


THE PLAIN OF GRENELLE. 


401 


plan. “ What would Paris say ? ” he asked thought- 
fully. “ They cannot become wonted to my absence. 
They need to see me again ! ” 

On the 18th of October he decided in favor of re- 
treat. On the 23d, at half-past one in the morning, 
the hour when General Malet, having effected his 
escape from the hospital, was issuing his first orders 
and preparing to carry out his designs upon the men 
of the 10th Cohort, a tremendous explosion shook 
Moscow to its centre, just as the vanguard marched 
out of the city by the southwestern gate. General 
Mortier, in accordance with Napoleon’s orders, had 
blown up the deserted Kremlin. 

The disastrous retreat had begun. Two roads 
were open. That to the southwest, by Kalunga, was 
a new road, and might afford better means of subsist- 
ence. But Napoleon, after he had started out upon 
it, finding the Russian army in front of him and upon 
his flanks, decided to abandon it and follow the more 
familiar route by way of Smolensk. He was no less 
desirous now to avoid the enemy than he had for- 
merly been to hear his cannon and meet him face to 
face. 

Furthermore, by following the old road he might be 
able to create a false opinion that the retreat was 
voluntary on his part, and well organized. 

It was a tragic, grievous hour. General Frost 
joined forces with General Fire. On November 6th 
the mercury fell to 18 degrees below zero. The snow 


402 


THE PLAIN OF GRENELLE. 


covered the sleeping regiments like a shroud. Many 
a poor fellow never awoke. Thirty thousand horses 
perished in a single night. They were obliged to 
abandon five hundred pieces of cannon. 

General Famine, as Neipperg and- Alexander’s other 
advisers predicted, put the finishing touch to the rout. 
These once proud soldiers, trembling for the first time, 
fought with the birds of prey for the mangled remains 
of the dead horses that lay along the road they had 
already traversed. 

The Cossacks, buzzing around the ears of the 
shivering troops, came very near surprising Napoleon 
and carrying him off. 

The catastrophe of the Beresina capped the climax, 
and reduced to a mere handful of destitute fugitives 
what had once been the Grande Armee. 

Napoleon marched on foot, staff in hand, with 
sombre mien, but not despairing. 

A courier met him at Doro^obouro;, with the sur- 
prising news of Malet’s conspiracy. The same courier 
informed him of the execution of twelve of the cul- 
prits. 

Napoleon was overwhelmed by the news, because it 
proved how precarious was his power, how unstable 
his dynasty. He found it difficult to credit the facility 
with which all the chief functionaries forgot his son 
and their oaths. 

“ Why ! ” said he to Lariboisiere, whom he consulted 
as to Lahorie, that officer having served under him ; 


THE PLAIN OF GRENELLE. 


403 


“ why ! they did not so much as give a thought to 
my son and my wife and the institutions of the em- 
pire ! ” 

And, as he strode to and fro in the hut where this 
intelligence was brought to him, he muttered : 

“ A melancholy result of our revolutions this ! At 
the first mention of my death, at the command of a 
stranger, officers lead their regiments to force the 
prisons, and lay hands upon the highest officials ! A 
jailor turns his key upon ministers ! The prefect of 
the capital, at the bidding of a few soldiers, gives 
orders to fit up the great hall of State for an assem- 
blage of mere insurgents ! And all this when the 
empress is close at hand, and the King of Rome, 
the princes, the ministers and all the great function- 
aries ! In God’s name is one man everything on this 
earth ? do oaths and institutions go for naught ? ” 

In the' next breath he expressed his displeasure at 
the precipitation which marked the trial and execution 
of the culprits. 

“ Those fools of ministers ! ” he grumbled ; “ after 
allowing themselves to be duped, they try to set them- 
selves right with me by ordering people shot by 
dozens ! ” 

On his return Napoleon administered a severe re- 
proof to Cambaceres because he did not await his 
coming before executing the judgment of the court- 
martial, which he would have been glad to examine. 

Tiie Malet conspiracy, although it was definitely 


404 


THE PLAIN OF GRENELLE. 


ended on the plain of Grenelle, determined Napoleon 
to return with all haste to France. He did not choose 
to leave his throne at the mercy of another coup-de- 
mam. On the 5th of December he called together 
Murat, Eugene, Berthier, Lefebvre, Davout and a few 
others of his comrades-in-arms, and made known to 
them his resolution to return to France. 

Not one of them disapproved. He then embraced 
them all in turn, as if he were never to see them again 
— might not a Cossack lance put an end to his career 
at the first stage ? — and entered a sledge, accompanied 
by Duroc, with no other guard than Roustan the 
Mameluke. Count Wosorwich took his place with 
the driver, to act as interpreter. 

A second sledge followed, containing Count Lobau- 
Caulaincourt and General Lefebvre-Desnouettes. The 
thermometer marked 30 degrees Reaumur, that is to 
say 35 degrees Centigrade, below zero. 

Having safely run the gauntlet of the cold, the 
Cossacks and all the perils of that journey across 
Europe, Napoleon arrived at the Tuileries during the 
night of the 18th December. 

The empress was in bed. She had had no notice of 
his coming. 

Hearing the commotion, she rose, in great perturba- 
tion. 

Perhaps she was not alone ? 

The emperor, not without difficulty, succeeded in 
gaining admission. 


THE PLAIN OF GRENKLLK. 


405 


He passionately embraced Marie-Louise, who re- 
turned his caresses with no great warmth. 

Then he abruptly left her and ran to the chamber 
where the King of Koine lay sleeping. 

The unusuaj noise awoke him. 

He recognized his father and held out his little 
arms, crying joyfully : “ Papa ! papa ! ” 

Napoleon lifted the child from his bed and strained 
him to his heart. 

“ Papa ! ” said the little fellow in his childish lisp ; 
“ papa, did you whip the naughty Cossacks ? ” 

The emperor made no reply. He kissed his son 
with silent, almost savage, joy. And then, foreseeing 
perhaps, the tragic future, continuous defeat succeed- 
ing continuous victory, exile, insults, the hatred and 
vengeance of the allied kings, allotting to the father 
for his tomb Saint-Helena, to the child the palace of 
Schcenbrunn, and, worse than a tomb, to Marie-Louise, 
become Madame de Neipperg, the alcove of the palace 
at Parma — with this terrifying vision before his eyes 
of what the future had in store, Napoleon wept. 






I 




















































































































. 



















































